Templar Enchanted
by Arcane of Thedas
Summary: Struck. Bewitched. Enchanted. Those are the words that come to Commander Cullen's mind when he thinks of her. Of the woman who miraculously emerged from the fade at the Conclave. The woman scarred with the Mark. The woman they now call the Herald.
1. Struck

There are several things I have witnessed in life that have left my head spinning.

Blood magic.

Abominations.

Demons.

_Arch_demons.

Honestly, you name it, and I have probably seen it.

But an actual _tear _in the actual_ sky_?

_That_ is taking matters a step too far.

"Commander!"

I nearly spill my ink pot all over the parchment I am scribbling on when my office door suddenly flies open. I look up to see a dark haired Antivan woman standing by the door, her grey eyes wide with shock.

"They're back! Cassandra and the prisoner are back!"

"What?"

I immediately jump off my chair and stride past Josephine—for that is the Antivan woman's name—and into the Chantry hallway.

"Where are they?" I ask, my eyes frantically searching the hall before me.

"The prisoner is unconscious," Jospehine responds. "Cassandra and Leliana are on their way to brief us."

Right on cue, the Chantry doors open, revealing two women rushing to meet us. We run towards them and meet them halfway.

"What happened? Is it sealed?" I ask the stern-faced brunette.

"Yes," Cassandra responds curtly. "It is just as we suspected. The prisoner's mark… it can seal the rifts."

"Thank the Maker," I close my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief.

"But the prisoner," Leliana says, her blue eyes troubled. "She's taken quite a blow. I fear she may not recover."

"She will," Cassandra replies with confidence. "She is strong. She'll make it."

"_Who_ is she?" I ask, curiosity quickly replacing my relief.

"A young noble woman," Leliana replies. "From the Trevelyan family, I believe."

"She's not Fereldan, then," I murmur to myself. "What on earth was she doing at the Conclave?"

"We don't know that yet," Cassandra replies. "We'll have plenty of time to drill her once she is awake."

I nod, surprised to find myself somewhat concerned for this mysterious prisoner's welfare.

"Is someone tending to her?" I ask the women.

"Yes. Adan is looking after her as we speak," Cassandra says. She looks tired.

_Worn_.

"I'm going to lie down for a moment," she says, as though reading my mind. "Josephine, let me know if the prisoner awakes. I have already instructed the servants to inform us as soon as she is conscious."

"I will," Josephine nods. "Go and rest, Cassandra. You look exhausted."

"I _feel _exhausted," she says, starting to head to her chamber.

"I should get going as well," Leliana says. "I have several messages I need to send before nightfall."

"Of course," I nod. Jospehine and I just stand there, watching Leliana disappear out the Chantry doors into the camp.

"Well, that's a relief, isn't it?" I smile.

"I'll be relieved once we find out what exactly happened at the Conclave," Josephine sighs, scribbling some notes on her parchment.

"Small steps, lady Montilyet," I reply as I start to retire to my office. "We'll get there."

* * *

><p>It was not until breakfast this morning that a servant elf excitedly informed Cassandra of the prisoner's revival.<p>

"How did she seem? Ill?" Cassandra asked the elf.

"She seemed fine, my lady," the elf replied. "She ate her breakfast as I showed her where her clothes were and told her to meet you at the Chantry as soon as she was ready."

"Good," Cassandra nods and dabs at her lips with a napkin. She pushes her half-eaten plate away and stands up. Her gaze meets mine across the table.

"Leliana and I will talk to her first," she tells me. "She is familiar with us. She may feel uncomfortable if all of us were to corner her for an interrogation."

"I agree," I nod. "I'll be at the recruit camp should you need me."

I down my glass of water and head to the recruit camp outside the village gates to oversee the combat training of our newest recruits.

Around an hour later, as I watch a soldier literally fall flat on his ass after a failed evasion attempt, I feel the hem of my coat being tugged at. I quickly turn around and look down to see the same elf from this morning, her expression _terrified_.

"Please, Ser," she stutters shakily, "Lady Pentaghast requires your presence in the war room, Ser."

"Thank you," I say, giving her a small smile to put the poor thing at ease. "I'll be there momentarily."

I turn back to the sparring recruits before me, shaking my head when I see one of them drop his shield as he attempts to block a strike.

"Keep going at it, recruits!" I yell out over the bustle. "Trevor!" I yell out to a nearby Templar.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Keep an eye out over them for me, would you?"

"Of course, Ser."

I quickly make my way to the war room in the Chantry. I was surprised to only find Leliana and Josephine waiting for me.

"Where's Cassandra and our guest?" I ask as I take a place between them behind the mahogany table.

"On their way, I'm sure," Josephine responds.

"In the meantime, have a look at this report from Redcliffe, Commander," Leliana says. I take the report from her and scan it. I'm almost halfway through when the war room door opens.

I look up without placing the report down and see Cassandra walk in first, stern as usual. But my eyes quickly move past her, eager to finally see this mysterious savior the people have now dubbed "The Herald of Andraste".

I feel the report slipping through my fingers and almost hit the table.

_Maker_.

"Everyone," Cassandra says, her eyes on the Herald. "This is Lady Trevelyan."

"You can call me Evelyn," she says quietly.

"This is Ser Cullen, Commander of the Inquisition forces."

The Herald's eyes, a warm, honey brown hue, drift towards my face, and meet my own. I see them momentarily widen when our gazes lock, and I feel a jolt in my stomach. I clear my throat—a nervous habit of mine—and straighten up, placing Leliana's report down on the table.

"Such as they are," I reply with a wry smile, referring to the so-called forces under my command. "It's an honour to meet you, Herald."

She nods and smiles back, her eyes lingering on mine.

"And this is Jospehine Montilyet, our Ambassador," Cassandra continues.

The Herald immediately slides her gaze over to Josephine, politely nodding in acknowledgment.

"And Leliana you already know," Cassandra finishes. "She's our spy master," she adds with a smirk.

"Thank you, Cassandra," Leliana says with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "How very… tactful of you."

My smile widens as I watch the Herald raise her eyebrows and chuckle in amusement.

The introduction chatter drifting into mere background noise, I find myself studying her face, taking in every delicate detail.

_She's beautiful._

I start and feel my face turn incredibly warm when her honey-brown eyes abruptly meet mine again.

_Maker's breath, did she catch me staring at her?_

_Typical. So. Infuriatingly. Typical_.

"Well, I'm going to show the Herald around camp," Cassandra announces, her hand on the door handle. "I will see you all at dinner. We can discuss our next course of action after breakfast tomorrow."

She then gently places her hand against the Herald's upper back—almost in a protective, sisterly way—and guides her back out into the hall.

I can't help but feel a little disappointed when I hear the heavy doors shut loudly behind them.

"Well," Jospehine says, looking at me and Leliana. "She's certainly not what I expected her to be."

"And what did you expect her to be, Josey?" Leliana smiles.

"I'm not sure…" Josephine responds softly. "Certainly not a young, pretty little Trevelyan."

Leliana chuckles and gathers her things.

"She is rather easy on the eyes, isn't she?" she smiles. Her blue eyes flit over to mine, glinting mischievously. "Our Commander seems quite taken by her."

I start sputtering almost immediately.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about," I respond defensively, pretending to busy myself with her discarded report, the heat in my face intensifying.

"Hmmm, sure you don't," she smirks, winking over my shoulder at Josephine.

I ignore them as I prepare to leave the war room.

"I will see you ladies at dinner," I tell them formally, before yanking open the door and quickly stepping out, eager to hide my now surely red face. I quickly stride over to my office and shut the door behind me. I throw Leliana's report on my desk and rest my hands against the polished wooden surface, staring out the window before me.

As I watch the snowflakes gather up into a sparkling white blanket on the windowsill, my mind drifts back to the only time I had ever been so struck by a woman upon first sight.

Ten years ago.

In the Ferelden Circle Tower.

And now, sure as the breach that scars the heavens, it's happening again.

But I don't want to allow it.

I_ shouldn't_ allow it.

I _won't_.


	2. The Herald

It's uncanny, the resemblance between the two.

Between the Herald and the Hero of Ferelden, that is.

The same dark, brown hair, plain and simply coiffed.

The same almond shaped brown eyes, tinged with a golden honey hue.

The same fair skin, generously kissed by the sun.

Oh, and one more thing before I forget.

The same ability to wield _magic_.

Clearly, I have a type.

Maker's breath. I must be one of those sick masochists one tends to hear about.

"Does that pose a problem for you, Cullen?"

"Hmm?"

I look up from my dinner plate and meet Josephine's gaze from across the table.

"About Lady Trevelyan being a mage, I mean," she clarifies. "You seem to have lost your voice when I told you about it."

"No," I shake my head, resuming to cut my steak. "No, not at all."

When I see she's not convinced, I place my cutlery down and look her straight in the eye.

"That part of me is in the past, Josephine," I assure her gravely. "I am in no danger of turning against the Herald or any of the other mages, for that matter. You have my word."

"I wasn't suggesting— I mean, of course you won't turn against the mages, Cullen. I would never accuse you of that."

Once Josephine busies herself by initiating some small talk with a noble seated beside her, my eyes automatically find the Herald sitting next to Cassandra, her plate licked clean before her.

It surprises me how… innocent she seems. Not just in relation to the incident at the Conclave and such. I mean, innocent in _general_. The sort of innocence you only come across in the faces of children.

Maker, she must be very young.

No more than her early twenties at most.

Every muscle in my body tenses-my knuckles turning ghostly white from gripping my cutlery too hard—when her eyes flash over to my face.

But I don't look away.

And neither does she.

She _smiles_.

I do too.

It must have only lasted a second, but in my mind, it feels like an entire age.

I look away first, worried that I may intimidate her by my boldness. I rub the back of my neck—yet another infuriating nervous habit of mine—and stand up to leave the dining hall. I chance one last glance at her before departing and I see that she is politely listening to Cassandra talk to her about Maker knows what.

I step out into the camp, relieved when the chilly winter breeze cools my unnaturally warm face. Taking advantage of the nearly deserted exterior, I decide to take a stroll to the tavern for a quick drink. Maker knows I'm in need of one.

"Ah, Commander!" the barkeep yells out when I step into the surprisingly crowded tavern. "The usual, I presume?"

"The usual," I nod with a smile, leaning against the wooden countertop. The barkeep places a goblet of golden ale before me and wipes the countertop with a rag.

"What a day, eh, Commander?" she asks. I never seem to be able to remember her name.

"Indeed," I respond, taking a swig of my drink.

"To have the Herald of Andraste herself, right here in Haven!" the woman chirps on. "How fitting that the Maker would send her to us in a place as sacred as this! The temple that housed our prophet's ashes, no less!"

I nod and smile politely before I take another swig, looking out through the little space in one of the many snow covered windows. I barely see a hooded figure, draped tightly in a shawl, hastily making their way to the apothecary.

I turn my attention back to my immediate surroundings in the warm tavern.

The change in atmosphere between yesterday, when the mysterious prisoner was all but convicted of murdering the Divine and creating the breach, and this very moment, where the Herald of Andraste, 'our Savior', is all you can hear on the people's cheerful lips, is incredible, to say the least. Every table I turn to, every conversation I pick up is somehow centered on praising our newest member.

Which is why it shouldn't take me by surprise when the entire tavern falls silent when the door quickly opens and shuts.

But I_ am_ taken by surprise.

Very much so, in fact.

It is the same hooded figure I had seen entering the apothecary a few minutes earlier.

Except, the figure is no longer hooded.

Maybe it is the shock of the moment, or maybe it is the effect of the ale, but it takes me a few seconds longer than usual to fully register who had just stepped into the little tavern.

I quickly turn away, thankful that we haven't yet made eye contact, which means I can easily pretend I did not notice her entering.

Notwithstanding the painfully obvious fact that the entire tavern did, that is.

But that is beside the point.

I continue to pretend nevertheless, quickly busying myself with my goblet.

The tavern is still deathly silent by the time she makes it to the bar.

"Good evening, Your Worship," the barkeep addresses her shakily. "What can I get you this evening?"

I nearly jump when she speaks, not realising just how _close _she is to me.

"Just an ale, thank you," she says in her gentle voice. I freeze in place when she pulls out the stool immediately to my left.

Resigning to the absurdity of the situation, I finally look up, pretending to have just noticed her arrival.

"Why, if it isn't the Herald of Andraste herself," I smile at her as she takes her seat. My sudden boldness takes me by complete surprise.

"Good evening, Commander," she smiles back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Fancy meeting you here tonight."

"Sometimes one needs to unwind," I respond, turning my body to face her. "Especially if you're in charge of a bunch of hopeless recruits like I am," I add with a smirk.

She lets out a light chuckle.

"Oh, I can only imagine," she grins.

She graciously accepts her ale from the barkeep and takes a quiet sip. I notice that she looks painfully uncomfortable, her eyes darting around the staring, whispering faces in the tavern. I immediately feel a strange surge of over-protectiveness, and I almost want to wrap a protective arm around her slender shoulders and shield her from the crowd's piercing scrutiny.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, trying to distract her from the several prying eyes fixated on her.

"Fine," she replies simply. "Unusually famished, but fine."

I smile as I remember how _clean_ her dinner plate looked once she was finished with it.

Her eyes continue to dart around the tavern as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"I…" she sets her barely touched goblet back down on the wooden surface. "I think I'll retire to my quarters."

_What? No!_

"Would you like me to walk with you?" I ask before stopping myself.

She pauses and blinks at me, a smile slowly creeping across her lips.

"I… Yes," she says softly, her hair covering the side of her face as she shyly smiles down at her feet. "I would like that."

Her eyes slowly slide back up to meet my gaze, and I feel a completely foreign warmth embracing me from within.

I set down a few silvers to cover our drinks (she protests but I insist) and walk with her out the tavern, very aware that every eye is glued on us.

_And cue the absurd rumours_.

_Ah, the joys of living in militia barracks_.

We walk in silence for a few moments, relishing the calmness of the cool winter night.

"So," I start, eager to have her conversing with me, "how does it feel, being called 'the Herald of Andraste'?"

She grimaces upon hearing that title, and I immediately know the answer.

"It's… a little unsettling," she responds.

I laugh lightly.

"I imagine the Chantry would agree," I tell her.

She lets out a brief, humourless laugh.

"I can only imagine how absurd the past twenty four hours must seem to you," I say.

She exhales loudly and nods in agreement.

"'Absurd' would be a vast understatement," she murmurs, examining the mark on her left palm.

We arrive at the door of the little cottage housing her here in Haven.

She stops and smiles up at me.

"Well," she shrugs, "this is me. Thank you for walking with me, Commander."

"It was my pleasure," I respond softly. "And, please; call me Cullen."

Her cheeks visibly flush and her smile widens into a bright beam.

"All right then, Cullen. And you may call me Evelyn."

"If it pleases you," I smile.

She rocks lightly on the balls of her feet, awkwardly swinging her arms by her sides.

"Well… Goodnight, then," she says.

"Goodnight, Evelyn."

Something about saying her name out loud sends an odd thrilling sensation through my insides.

I bow low, keeping my gaze fixed on hers. She bows her head in return and enters the cottage.

I stand there, smiling to myself like a brainless simpleton, before finally recollecting myself and turning on my heels towards the Chantry.

I think I may require a good book to keep me occupied for at least a few hours.

Because Maker knows I am _surely _not going to be getting any sleep tonight.


	3. Gravity

Four days.

Four _long_ days since I have seen her.

I am trying my utmost best to pay attention to the task at hand—namely designing a new training program for our more advanced and experienced troops—but I seem to have developed a tick of some sort whereby my eyes keep darting to my office window every few minutes.

What in the Maker's name is keeping them so _long_?

All Cassandra had to do was take the Herald to the Hinterlands, talk to Mother Giselle, look around the area to for opportunities to spread our influence, and then come back. Mother Giselle arrived here two days ago.

_So where are they?_

Letting out a loud sigh, I give up on the training plan and walk to the window, staring off into the distance.

_What if she's injured?_

_What if some fanatical mage fools hurt her?_

_Or worse?_

I sigh again.

I am being decidedly ridiculous.

I barely _know_ the lady.

It has only been… what? A week since we met?

It is true that, by virtue of our positions in the Inquisition, we have spent a considerable amount of time in each other's company this past week, but that time was all spent professionally.

At face value, at least.

Not necessarily in my head.

But a part of me can't blame myself.

There is a quality about her—I cannot quite put my finger on it—that draws people to her.

Like a gravitational pull.

Or maybe it's just me?

I hear the Chantry clock chiming in the hallway.

_Noon_.

My stomach rumbles loudly for the fiftieth time today.

Maker, I am _famished_.

I have been eating quite poorly these past few days, an unfortunate reaction to stress that I have developed over the years.

I return to my desk, scan the nearly complete training program, and make my way to the dining hall.

I see a table taken by some of my troops and take a seat among them.

I enjoy being around my troops.

It may seem strange to some people, but I am very fond of them.

I care for them, like a father would care for his children, notwithstanding the fact that quite a few of them are older than I am, in some cases considerably older.

After a hearty meal and a few good laughs, my troops and I head out to the training area beyond the gates for a theory lesson on ambush tactics.

"Commander!" an angry male voice calls out as soon as I step out of the Chantry. "Commander Cullen!"

I turn to the source of the voice and groan.

"Chancellor Roderick," I grimace as I wait for the old man to approach me. "You lot go on ahead," I tell my troops. "I'll catch up with you once I'm finished with this nuisance."

I fold my arms across my chest and don't even attempt to act civil when the old man stops before me, scowling as though I had done something to greatly offend him.

"Back again, Chancellor?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"I have been meaning to ask you," the angry Chancellor says. "Just for how long is the Inquisition planning on dangling that little puppet and continue to spread malicious lies—"

"There is no need to corner the Commander, Chancellor," a stern, female voice calls out loudly from a short distance.

I turn my head in surprise, my heart jumping when I see Cassandra and Trevelyan approaching us, closely followed by Varric and Solas.

"Seeker Pentaghast," the Chancellor hisses in disgust.

"I have already told you before, Chancellor," Cassandra snarls, stopping a few inches before Roderick. Being quite a tall woman, she towers over the aging man, her amber eyes glinting dangerously as she glares down at him. "The Inquisition has been established under the direction of the late Divine, and nothing a lowly clerk like you says or does can undermine that authority."

"You have no—" the Chancellor protests.

"Enough!" she yells out, her strong voice echoing across the camp. I look at Trevelyan and see that she is watching Cassandra with unmistakable awe.

"If you have nothing meaningful to add to this discussion, I suggest you stop wasting the Inquisition's precious time and leave this place at once."

Without waiting for a response, Cassandra stalks off and yanks open the Chantry doors, Trevelyan following closely behind her.

"Commander?" she calls out, barely turning her head to look at me. "I need you in the war room."

"Of course."

Completely ignoring the Chancellor, who looks so angry, he might just explode, I follow the women into the dimly-lit Chantry, feeling a lot more excited than the situation warrants.

As the Herald—or, Evelyn, as she asked me to refer to her—walks ahead of me, I can't help but watch her as she moves. My eyes shamefully focus on the sway of her hips, and despite myself, my pulse quickens.

_Maker, what am I thinking?_

I have met several women in my life. I have never been one to… _ogle_, for lack of a better term. Truth be told, I was always known as 'the prude' in whatever circle of friends I was amongst. The nickname never really bothered me—there was no point in denying the truth, after all.

And now, here I am, staring at a respectable young lady's backside and getting _sinfully_ excited over it.

_My friends should see me now_.

Cassandra stops by Jospehine's office and asks her and Leliana, who is with the ambassador, to join us.

_Oh, Maker. More of Leliana's teasing_.

"Well?" Leliana asks impatiently as soon as the door shuts behind her. "Is the fighting as bad as the reports indicated?"

"Worse," Cassandra says, leaning over the war table. Once again, she looks absolutely _exhausted_. My gaze then drifts over to the Herald, who is covered in mud and looks every bit as worn as Cassandra, if not more.

"The fighting has spread everywhere," Trevelyan says. "Though it's not the rebel mages that are involved."

"What do you mean?" I ask, eager to attract her attention.

"The _real_ rebels are cooped up in Redcliffe castle," she explains. "Those mages are just random apostates that have no affiliation with them."

"And are the Templars aware of that?" I press on.

"Oh, they are past caring," Cassandra pipes in. "They've all lost their minds. They attacked us and the rest of the Inquisition forces on sight."

"They did _what_?" I ask, shocked beyond belief. "That can't be!"

"It can and it _is_, Commander," Cassandra responds coolly.

I shake my head, trying to make sense of this mess.

"So what's our next step?" Jospehine asks.

Cassandra focuses her attention on the war map.

"We go to Val Royeaux," she says after a short pause.

"For what purpose?" I ask.

"Mother Giselle asked the Herald to speak to the clerics in person," Cassandra explains. "She thinks it would do the Inquisition some good if they saw and spoke to her in person. If they saw that she is not the criminal that they claim her to be."

"Is that a safe course of action?" I immediately ask. I feel my face go warm when I see Leliana's amused eyes quickly flash over to mine.

"With a hole in the sky, I'm sure facing a bunch of aging clerics will be manageable," Trevelyan jokes sarcastically.

I smile, but feel worried for her nonetheless.

"We will only go to speak with them," Cassandra tells me reassuringly; almost as though she read my mind. "We do not intend to start a blood bath in the midst of the city."

"I believe it is a good idea," Josephine says. "Stopping the clerics' slander will be a huge advantage to the Inquisition."

"It's settled then," Cassandra says, stepping away from the war table. "We will leave tomorrow."

With the meeting concluded, I excuse myself and leave to join my troops.

_Leaving_, I think gloomily to myself as I walk through the snow. _Again. And so soon_.

"Commander!"

I stop in my tracks and turn around, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Lady Trevelyan," I turn and bow deeply, trying my best to ignore the stream of butterflies that flutter in my stomach. "How can I be of service?"

"Well, you can start by dropping the formal act and calling me Evelyn," she smiles playfully.

"Oh, right," I rub the back of my neck.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"I was just uhh… There's a training exercise I have to go over with my troops," I stutter stupidly.

"Cullen is acting like a doting parent. I think he might carry portraits of all the soldiers in his pocket."

We turn around and see Varric watching us with a thoroughly amused expression on his smug face.

Evelyn chuckles heartily while I frown at the annoying dwarf.

"All right," she turns her attention back to me. "I'll get off your back, then. I have to go bathe, anyway. I'm covered in filth!"

_Yet, you look as beautiful as the shining sun_.

"I'm sure you require your rest," I smile as I bow my head. "Should you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Yes," she smiles. "I do."

And with that, she walks past me to her cottage, still smiling until I can't see her face anymore.

"Are you always this awkward around pretty young women, Curly?" Varric smirks after taking a swig of wine straight from the bottle. He looks quite battered and fatigued himself.

"Shut up, dwarf," I grumble. I stalk right past him as he laughs heartily.

"It's all right, Curly!" he calls out. "It's part of your charm!"

I lift up my right hand as I walk away and gesture rudely at him without turning around.

I've changed my mind.

My friends should definitely _not_ see me right now.


	4. Distraction

I haven't been seeing much of her as of late.

Part of it is due to our commitments and the nature of our precarious situation, but I must admit that it has also been a deliberate move on my part.

I've been distracted.

_She _distracts me.

And that's not ideal.

Not when I'm Commander of the Inquisition forces.

Not when we have a breach in the sky that is yet to be sealed.

Now is not the time for the pursuit of romantic fantasies.

I am already hopeless at handling these sort of… romantic situations as it is, breach or no breach. I don't exactly require yet another reason for a distracted mind and clouded judgment.

There is... also the issue of my lyrium withdrawal.

As a Templar, I was required to take lyrium regularly to fuel my abilities. Since I left the Order however, I stopped taking it, and like any drug, the withdrawal symptoms are not kind.

It has taken a toll on me.

There are times when I can barely _move_.

And while Lady Trevelyan has taken quite a liking to invading my dreams, the nightmares have not ceased. Far from it.

But it appears that the Lady enjoys distracting clueless ex-Templars, because that happens to be what she usually does during her rare moments of downtime in Haven.

"Hello, Cullen."

Feeling that familiar jolt in my stomach whenever I see her or hear her voice, I tear my eyes away from my training recruits and turn to see her standing beside me.

"Good morning, Lady Trevelyan," I smile with my customary bow of the head.

She seems to have given up on the notion of having me address her by her first name (I can't bring myself to do it), so she does not comment on the matter.

"How are the troops faring this fine morning?" she asks, watching the sparring continue around us.

"Still much more room for improvement, but good, nonetheless," I reply.

We both watch the training in silence for a few moments, my mind spinning at the absurdity of the situation.

_She's right **there**_.

_Say **something**_.

_Say **anything**, you bumbling, incompetent idiot!_

"How was it, being a Templar?" she asks, finally breaking the almost unbearable silence.

"Uhh… what do you mean?" I ask stupidly.

She smiles, and I feel another jolt as the sun plays with her honey-tinted eyes, setting them alight under its rays.

"I was a mage in the Circle at Ostwick," she explains. "We weren't exactly friendly with the Templars there. I've always wondered what it was like, being a Templar in the Circle. I mean, what was daily life like?"

I laugh darkly, more so to myself than at her question.

"You mean when we weren't slaying abominations and preventing blood mages from taking over the Tower and massacring everyone in it?" I ask sarcastically.

She looks genuinely surprised at my response and my sudden dark manner.

"Is that what happened at the Circle in Ferelden?" she asks.

I sigh, not exactly prepared to relive that horrible time.

"I… I would prefer not to speak of it now," I tell her apologetically. "Another time, maybe?"

"Of course," she responds immediately.

I can't stop looking at the colour of her eyes.

_Maker_…

"Were you friendly with the mages in the Circle?" she asks after another stretch of silence. "I mean, before everything transpired, that is. A few of the Templars were friendly with us. Most weren't, though."

I look away, her face proving to be a great distraction to my thought process.

"I could say the same about the Circles I served in," I respond. "Some of us saw no issue with talking to the mages, myself included."

I pause, my mind briefly drifting off to the Hero of Ferelden and how I was very often tongue-tied whenever she was anywhere within the vicinity.

Very much like the situation with the beautiful young lady standing right beside me now, in fact.

"But you could never risk getting too friendly with them," I continue, straightening up and focusing on my troops again. "In case…" I shift my gaze to her face, my heart warming when I see how intently she is watching me as I speak.

"In case you have to strike them down," she finishes for me.

I nod, allowing myself to marvel at her beauty for a second, before forcefully tearing my gaze away to focus on my troops instead.

"Do you…" her voice trails away.

I look at her, waiting intently for her to finish her question. She looks… troubled.

"Do you feel comfortable? Talking to a mage?" she asks quietly. I can barely hear her over the sound of clinking swords and bashing shields.

"Of course," I respond quickly, almost in a panic. The last thing I want is for her to think I do not appreciate her company. "Whatever happened… that was in the past. I don't allow it to trouble me or prejudice my opinion about mages in any way."

When she does not appear convinced, I turn my body to face her, intent on giving her my complete attention.

"Mages are people, just as Templars are," I tell her softly. "We are all different. There will always be good and evil in all of us. I would never presume to judge a person solely by their Maker-given abilities."

She nods, a faint smile of understanding dawning on her lightly tanned face. A loose strand of her hair blows across her eyes, and my hand involuntarily moves up to brush it away.

She freezes, as do I.

_Maker, what have I done?_

I quickly pull my hand away and rub the back of my neck, feeling the heat creep up and spread throughout my face.

"Forgive me," I murmur softly, wishing the earth would somehow open up and swallow me whole.

"For what?" she smiles, taking a few steps back with her eyes fixed on me, until she turns around and disappears into the crowd.

Dazed, I turn back to my troops, barely aware of my surroundings.

"Why are you smiling?"

I blink under the glaring morning sun to see Cassandra watching me, arms crossed across her chest, with a quizzical expression on her face.

"Pardon?"

She raises a dark eyebrow and regards me with what must be amusement. One can never truly tell with Cassandra; her face is always exceptionally stoic.

Or grumpy.

Depends who you ask, really.

"What were you and the Herald talking about?" she asks. It's not like her to pry.

"Nothing of importance," I shrug, trying my best to appear aloof. "Just life in the Circle prior to all of this mess."

She nods, her eyes wandering off to the recruits.

"She has taken quite a shine to you, you know," she says after a pause.

I nearly choke on my own breath.

"I… I'm not sure what you're talking about, Cassandra," I respond defensively, adamant in my resolve to avoid her piercing gaze. I was never a good liar.

"It has become quite obvious to us all," she continues. "I just wanted to warn you, Commander."

I finally allow myself to meet her gaze, surprised when I see the concern in her eyes.

"Warn me?" I repeat. "What about, exactly?"

She unfolds her arms and looks me squarely in the eye.

"About the dangers of giving in to such thoughts. Especially during a time such as this. This has nothing to do with her being a mage," she quickly adds. "I would warn you regardless of her abilities. Now is not the time, Commander. We have a task before us and we must see that it is completed. Every single one of us bears that responsibility. We cannot afford to be distracted."

She turns on her heels and walks away in the direction of the gates.

She's right.

Of course she's right.

But you want to know what is so pathetic about this entire predicament?

With all that Cassandra has said to me, all I can think of as I continue to watch over my troops' training is this:

"_She has taken quite a shine to you, you know."_

And despite the foolishness of my thoughts and the gravity of our situation, I feel a smile make its way back across my lips.

Distraction or not, I will allow myself the joy of hearing that, at least.


	5. Time Warp

I am most definitely a morning person.

I'm not quite sure whether it is due to being used to life as a Templar or whether I am a natural early riser, but I don't really function as well during the night, although that hasn't exactly precluded me from staying up late to pour over war reports and whatnot.

But that is definitely not the norm.

Normally, I am up and about just after dawn. I used to have a habit of reading a few canticles before leaving bed, but I have recently ceased that practice.

So this morning, I wake up, wash my face at the stone basin by the window, shave, and attempt to groom my curls into an acceptable standard. Once I am done, I observe my reflection in the mirror.

I am not in the habit of checking my reflection. I have always had quite a blasé attitude towards my physical appearance.

But ever since the Herald…

Well…

Let's just say that I have been far more attentive to my physical appearance than I would ever dare to admit.

My eyes, usually a light hazel shade, appear dark in the dim candlelight of my office (which also happens to be my quarters, by the by). My skin, pale and almost translucent in the early morning light, is still a little irritated from the shave.

And my scar…

I lightly trace it with my index finger, my mind reluctantly conjuring memories of the battle that caused it.

_Red._

_Everything was red._

_Her eyes, the glow emanating from her skin…_

_A twisted red corpse on the stone floor_.

I shudder, shaking my head and squeezing my eyes shut to shake the memory away.

I walk over to the window and look out to observe the weather.

_Looks like a blizzard out there_.

Usually, I take this opportunity for some combat training while my troops are still asleep, but the weather this morning definitely throws that possibility out the window.

Feeling incredibly warm and comfortable in my shirt and trousers, I decide not to change into my armour just yet. I light a candle on my desk and pick up a report I had been reading the previous night.

Halfway through scribbling a comment under the report, I hear a light knock on my door.

_Who on earth is awake at this hour?_

Feeling a little apprehensive, I hesitantly make my way to the door and open it.

"Uhh… good morning, Commander."

My mouth falls open.

No, I mean _really_. As in, I actually feel the damned thing fall right _open_.

"Lady Trevelyan," I say, my voice still hoarse from not using it. "Is something wrong?"

"No! I mean, yes. I mean…" she sighs, her arms wrapped around the thick nightgown over her slender frame. "Can I come in?"

_Andraste's flaming sword._

What sort of a man _am_ I, just leaving her standing there by the doorway?

"Of course," I stammer, instantly stepping aside to allow her in.

_I'm dreaming_

_I must be dreaming._

_Maker, I'm dreaming, aren't I?_

I follow her to my desk, where she takes a seat. I take my seat behind the desk, trying my best to appear calm despite the mad flurry of thoughts spinning in my head.

"Can I get you anything?" I ask, cursing myself for my relentless stammer. "Tea or coffee perhaps?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," she smiles.

I try to swallow, but my throat is far too dry, so I make a strange sort of strangled noise as I attempt to clear my throat instead.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, looking down at her lap. "I was here for a prayer because I couldn't sleep and I heard movement in your office—"

"You couldn't sleep?" I ask, cutting her off in my worry.

She looks up at me with tired eyes.

"No," she replies softly, shaking her head. "I keep…" she takes a deep breath, "I keep thinking about that future. The one I saw at Redcliffe after Alexius threw us forward in time."

She looks so _distraught_, I have to fight against every muscle in my body to stop myself from getting up and holding her.

To make her feel safe and warm.

To _protect_ her.

"What you saw was nothing more than a vision," I tell her softly. "Even though it really happened at one point, as far as the rest of us are concerned, it never did. And it never _will._"

I smile at her worried face, and soon enough, she also relaxes into a warm, albeit weak, smile.

But a thought quickly wipes that smile away again.

"You weren't there," she almost whispers. "Neither was Josephine. That must have meant…"

Her voice trembles before trailing off, and she quickly averts my gaze and looks out the window.

She looks deathly pale in the blue morning light.

Feeling at a complete loss of what to say or do, I do the only thing that makes sense to me at this moment.

I reach across the desk and gently take her cold hand in mine.

She closes her eyes and smiles before she turns away from the window and meets my gaze. She places her other hand over mine, squeezing it gently.

"Thank you, Cullen," she whispers.

I nod once and smile, not because it is a better response than actually saying something, but because that little gesture she just did, covering my hand with both of hers…

It robbed me of the ability to speak.

She looks at me, and I do the same, the two of us seated in complete silence save the birds chirping as the sun slowly illuminates the snowy village.

Then, when we hear the bustle of servants outside in the Chantry hallway, she suddenly jerks her hands away from me and stands up, her expression…

Embarrassed?

_Maker, she's exquisite when she blushes_.

"Well, I'd better get back to my quarters before everyone starts talking," she smiles.

I quickly stand up and follow her to the door.

She places her hand on the door knob and pauses.

"Thank you, Cullen," she repeats, turning her head to look at me.

"It was a pleasure, my lady," I reply softly.

She hesitates for a moment before slowly opening the door and slipping out into the hallway.

Dazed, I make my way back to my desk and pick up the discarded report I was scribbling on.

I spend the next hour or so smiling at it until the breakfast bell starts chiming throughout the village.

Later in the afternoon, the rest of the advisors and I are summoned to the war council by Cassandra. I quickly and shamelessly check my reflection in the mirror before heading to the war room, butterflies flooding my insides.

I haven't seen her since this morning. She was absent during breakfast and I skipped lunch when one of my soldiers came back from a scouting mission severely injured.

I push open the heavy wooden door to once again find Leliana and Josephine gossiping over Maker knows what. It's becoming quite a frequent sight, to be honest.

"Good afternoon, ladies," I smile as I make my way to my usual spot between them.

"Good afternoon, Commander," they reply, grinning knowingly at each other.

I roll my eyes when I see the impish looks on their faces.

"Dear Maker, not this again," I sigh, shaking my head as I glance over the war map. I suddenly remember an important issue I wanted to discuss with Josephine.

"Josephine," I start, completely ignoring Leliana's giggles. "I wanted to discuss the possibility of—"

I automatically look up as soon as the doors fly open.

"Sorry we are late," Cassandra announces as soon as she and Trevelyan walk in. "Somebody decided to have a bit of an afternoon nap today," she glances at Trevelyan with a hint of a mocking smile on her face.

"Sorry," Trevelyan mumbles, tucking her hair behind her ears. Her eyes briefly meet mine, shooting my heart into a frenzy before she quickly looks away.

"You were saying, Commander? Cullen?"

"Hmm?" Josephine's voice snaps me out of my reverie. "Oh, right. I was just saying that we don't have enough training ground for our soldiers, so I was wondering whether it would be possible for us to set up another area around here," I circle an area on the map with my index finger.

"I don't see how that would pose an issue," Josephine replies.

"Good," I murmur, glancing back up at Trevelyan.

"So, now that we have secured an alliance with the mages, it is time for us to finish this," Cassandra begins. "Commander, have you had any issues with the mages?"

"Apart from their constant complaints of not having nice enough quarters?" I ask dryly. "No, not really."

"Anything from the Templars?"

"Just the usual concerns, but they haven't noticed anything threatening," I respond. "I believe we are as ready as we could be. Our forces are on standby in case anything goes wrong."

In my peripheral vision, I notice Trevelyan watching me as I speak with a small smile on her face. I quickly glance at her and look away, clearing my throat when another jolt surges through me.

"Excellent work, Commander," Cassandra nods in approval. "And what is the situation with your scouts, Leliana?"

"They are keeping watch around the perimeter. No reports of unusual activity."

"Good," Cassandra nods. "It is settled, then. Tomorrow, we go to the Temple of Sacred Ashes and end this atrocity before it gets any worse."

"As long as the Herald feels she is prepared, that is," I add when I notice the anxious look on Trevelyan's face.

"I am," she nods firmly. "This ends now."

I nod back, but I cannot ignore the tremble I heard in her voice as she spoke.

She's scared.

Maker knows I am.

_Andraste preserve us all_.


	6. In Your Heart Shall Burn

**Note**_: I've decided that, for every chapter that is directly related to a main quest in the actual game, I'll give that chapter the respective name of that in-game quest, this one being the first. Enjoy! _

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><p><em>Maker forgive me<em>.

"Fire the flare!"

An archer immediately heeds my roaring command and fires a flaming arrow into the dark evening sky.

We all stand in silence, waiting for some sign that our plan had successfully worked.

Not a single sound emanates from us, the silence only broken by the howling blizzard winds.

My teeth chatter loudly, and I nearly bite my tongue in my tense state.

_Maker_, I plead. _Please, Maker. _

_Let her live_.

"I shouldn't have left her," Cassandra says, more so to herself than to anyone else, I suspect.

I swallow back a fresh surge of fear, determined to remain positive.

Just as I am about to lose the last shred of hope, just as my knees start to buckle beneath my weight, we see an avalanche slide down the mountain in the distance.

_She saw the signal._

_She has fired the trebuchet._

_She's alive_.

Everyone around me breathes a collective sigh of relief.

One that is quickly followed by a collective gasp of horror.

In the distance, right above Haven, we see the silhouette of a dragon, barely visible in the blizzard, flying away in the opposite direction.

We are all frozen in our places, no one daring to take a breath. My heart is pounding loudly and rapidly in my chest, fear flooding me as though coursing through my veins.

I had only been this terrified once before.

I almost broke, then. That fear almost ruined me.

But fearing for one's own life pales in comparison to fearing for the life of another.

The life of a person so dear to you, the thought of losing them itself is enough to paralyse you.

"Commander," Leliana softly addresses me. "Cullen, we must keep going."

I barely hear her.

My eyes are fixed on the distant mountain, where the Inquisition was housed not a few hours ago.

Where she stayed to buy us all enough time to escape.

"Cullen," Cassandra's firm voice says. I feel someone gently place their hand on my shoulder, but I haven't the vaguest idea who it is.

"Cullen, we _must _move," Cassandra's voice continues.

My eyes move to her face, her expression stern yet morose.

I swallow and nod silently, feeling my entire body trembling in my armour.

_I mustn't break now._

_I __**can't**_.

"Prepare to move," I call out with an audible tremble in my voice. I continue to stare at the mountain, _willing _her to appear with all my might.

Then somehow, despite the numbness that has taken over me, I manage to turn away from the mountain and slowly start to walk ahead of the surviving members of the Inquisition.

"Solas is scouting ahead," Leliana informs me. "We will set up camp once we are at a safe enough distance and we _will _wait for her, Cullen."

I walk on in silence, fixing my eyes on Solas' silhouette in the near distance.

_Maker protect her_, I repeat over and over to myself, the cold winds stinging the skin on my exposed face.

_Maker watch over her_.

After what seems like an hour of continuous walking, Solas finally stops and surveys a valley blocked off from the blizzard by the mountain walls surrounding it.

"This area will suffice," he tells us. "It will shield us from the blizzard as we wait."

The survivors immediately start lighting fires and setting up camp. I refuse to venture away any further than the entrance to the valley, where I would be able to see her approaching from a distance.

I shiver violently in my armour as I keep watch, but I am too scared to leave my post to bring wood for a fire in case she appears while I am gone.

So I will bear the cold.

I've borne far worse before.

I pace around like a madman, my eyes never wandering away from the arc of her approach.

I jump and nearly draw my sword when I hear a sudden sound emanate from right behind me.

"Cassandra was beginning to worry you would freeze to death," Solas tells me calmly, having just used his magic to light a fire.

"I… thank you," I reply gratefully as the warmth washes over me.

He joins me at my post, his eyes scanning the scene before him.

"The blizzard grows stronger," he murmurs. A surge of panic instantly grips at me.

"I shouldn't have left her alone," I say, guilt and self-hatred rapidly replacing the panic that had consumed me. "I should have_ stayed_ with her and helped."

"The people need you, Commander," Solas responds. "Apart from her, they trust no one else to lead them as much as they trust you."

I shake my head, refusing to listen to him.

"Morale is an important thing," Solas continues. I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to focus on anywhere but the approach. "Can you imagine what would have transpired if the Inquisition lost you both? Your forces would falter without their Commander, and everything the Herald has done would have been in vain."

"Any sign of her?" I hear Cassandra ask from behind us.

"No," I reply. "Not yet."

With each passing minute, I feel myself losing hope, and with it, my sanity.

"I'll never forgive myself if something happened to her," I say, my voice trembling as I fight back the desperation threatening to take hold of me.

"It was her plan, Commander," Cassandra reminds me.

"And I shouldn't have agreed to it!" I yell out, my voice echoing across the valley.

"Wait," Solas interrupts us. "I see something in the distance!"

"Where?" I ask frantically, taking a few steps forward.

My eyes widen when I finally see a figure a short distance away.

"There!" I yell out, breaking into a sprint towards her. "It's her!"

"Thank the Maker!" I hear Cassandra's relief close behind me.

As soon as she sees us, as soon as she realises she's safe, she falls to her knees, her head hanging low. I slide down to my knees and pick her up, holding her firmly against me.

"Cullen?" she asks weakly, barely able to open her eyes. Her lips are alarmingly blue.

"I'm here," I whisper, pressing my cheek against her forehead. "You're safe."

I feel her body go limp in my arms and hear her sigh as she slips into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p><em>She is alive<em>.

Those three words blissfully play repeatedly in my mind as I sit alone by a distant fire, watching her talk to Solas in a secluded area of the camp.

It also seems as though a smile has permanently been plastered onto my features.

I have had worse things happen to my face, however, so I think I shall manage if that were the case.

I take a spoonful of the soup I have on my lap, relishing the warmth that spreads all the way to my fingertips.

I had a bit of a spat with the other advisors about our next move while Trevelyan rested, so I am not so inclined on spending my downtime in their company, hence the seclusion.

As well as the fact that I am rather enjoying the chance of observing her without being caught in the act.

So I observe, barely aware of my surroundings as I relish the joy of seeing her alive and well before me.

A short while later, I see her walk away from Solas and make her way back to the main camp. Solas himself remains at their spot, standing close to the blue flames he conjured and looking out ahead into the darkness of the night.

"She is wondering where you are."

I jump, spilling some soup onto the snow by my feet.

_Maker!_

"I'm sorry!" a pale, young man in an oversized hat exclaims. "I didn't mean to frighten you!"

"Cole," I say, taking a deep breath to calm myself down.

"I'm sorry," the young man repeats sincerely.

I look up at him, standing right beside me where no one stood only a few seconds ago.

"Where in the Maker's name did you come from?" I ask, anger quickly replacing my shock.

"I was right there," he replies innocently. "You just didn't see me. People usually don't see me. Or they forget."

I sigh, quickly regretting my anger.

I don't even _know_ the boy—or where he came from—but he warned us about the battle in Haven and has only helped us so far.

"What do you mean by 'forget'?" I ask.

"She's coming," he says, completely ignoring my question as though he hadn't heard it. And in the blink of an eye, he's gone.

Before I even have time to make sense of what had just transpired, I hear footsteps advancing towards me.

"_There_ you are."

I look up, freezing momentarily when I see Lady Trevelyan smiling down at me.

"My lady," I breathe, quickly setting aside my soup and standing up.

"What are you doing here all on your own?" she asks, her eyes sweeping the area.

"Oh, uhh," I resort to the automatic neck rub as I attempt to gather my thoughts. "I just needed some time to think. About our next course of action, that is."

"Oh, am I interrupting you?" she asks guiltily.

"No!" I quickly exclaim. "No, of course not."

"Good," she says softly, her beautiful face instantly relaxing back into a smile. "Well, as it happens, Solas and I have been discussing just that."

"Oh?"

"Yes," she plops down onto the log I was sitting on and warms her hands by the fire. "Would you like to learn of it as you finish your dinner?"

I almost forgot about the discarded soup bowl by my feet.

I sit down next to her, taking care to keep a respectable distance between us.

"Solas thinks we should move further north," she begins. I feel a smile creep up on my lips as I watch the shadows cast by the flames play around her face. "He thinks he may have an idea for a new place we could set up in."

I find myself mesmerized by the way her lips move as she speaks.

Soft, full lips.

No longer blue but pink and warm in the firelight.

"I think it's our best hope," she continues, completely oblivious to my staring. "Don't you?"

She turns away from the fire and looks at me, smiling when she catches me watching her.

"I—yes, I do," I quickly stammer in response, internally cursing myself as I start to feel my face flush. "We don't have the luxury of mulling over other options, in any case."

"My thoughts exactly," she smiles.

_I could kiss her._

_I could so easily kiss her._

_And no one would know_.

"Cole told me," she says softly, her eyes roaming over my face.

"Told you what?"

"That you stood alone in the cold, waiting for me for hours."

I swallow audibly.

"I couldn't live with myself if something had happened to you," I reply.

She smiles, her hair falling over her face as she looks down.

"Thank you," she murmurs. "I…I'm relieved that you—I mean—so many made it out alive."

_Maker, did she just stammer?_

"As am I," I respond softly, feeling the familiar inner warmth that floods me whenever I am near her.

She looks up at me, but does not utter a word. Then, as abruptly as Cole had disappeared, she stands up, breaking the tension that had begun to build up between us.

"I'd best get some more rest," she says. "Goodnight, Commander."

She turns to walk away, but I quickly get up after her.

"You stayed behind," I say, stopping her in her tracks. "You could have—"

I pause, unable to bring myself to even _think_ of the word.

"I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again," I tell her gravely. "You have my word."

Her eyes widen slightly and her eyebrows rise, clearly surprised by my solemn promise. She smiles and nods before departing towards the main camp.

As I stand there and watch her walk away, one thing becomes crystal clear to me.

I feel it settle into me, into my very flesh and bones.

I am falling for her.

Harder and faster than I ever imagined possible.

And it is far too late to do anything about it now.


	7. Intoxicated

**Note:** For those of you who are active on the tumblr dragon age fandom, 'Jim' should definitely ring a bell ;)

UPDATE: The chapter ending has been updated since posting it. The original ending ("so _this_ is happiness") was a bit meh in my opinion. Enjoy!

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><p>What time is it?<p>

Maker, what _day_ is it?

Ever since we arrived at Skyhold, everything has been quite a blur.

I have been so occupied with setting up the troops and making sure they have all been assigned appropriate quarters and have the equipment lost at Haven replaced, I have barely had a moment to breathe.

It seems Varric had a point when he referred to me as a doting parent.

I ruffle through some scrolls on my desk in my new office and grumble when I cannot find what I am looking for. I stride to the door to the left of my desk and stick my head out, scanning the battlements for a soldier.

"You there!" I call out when I see one patrolling in the distance. "James, come here!"

A young, pale soldier instantly sprints towards me.

"Commander!" he snaps into attention, almost losing his balance in his enthusiasm.

"At ease," I tell him. "Sister Leliana was meant to have a copy of the report on our Haven scouts sent to me this morning. Tell her that Commander Cullen is still waiting and requires it urgently."

"Yes, Sir!"

I stride back to my desk and try to make sense of the mess that is strewn across it.

I am not usually this disorganised.

In fact, my Templar training has effectively _ensured_ that organisation is one of my strongest fortes.

_All right, all I need to do is focus on one part of the office at a time._

I look over at the pile of books and tomes strewn at the foot of the bookshelf to my right.

_Maker_.

_I suppose I might as well start there._

I stoop down and start to methodically place books in shelves according to their subject matter. I start to absentmindedly hum to myself, already feeling better now that I have at least _started_ on tidying things up.

I barely turn around to see who it is when I hear the door open.

"Ah, James. That was qui—"

"Hello, Commander."

I literally jump a foot into the air, nearly tripping in my haste. I quickly employ a pathetic attempt to make it seem as though I had intended to stand up in such a quick (and terribly awkward) fashion.

Not because I was shocked by the sound of her voice.

Oh, no. Not at all!

"Inquisitor," I bow my head. "Something you need?"

She looks quite uncomfortable. I instantly begin to worry that something is wrong.

"I… thought we could talk," she says awkwardly. "Alone."

My heart, already in a frenzy from her unexpected arrival, is now positively _thumping_ against my chest.

"A-alone?" I stammer, barely able to believe my own ears. "I mean, of- of course!"

"Maybe on the battlements?" she suggests. "I know you have an open door policy at your office…"

"That's…yes, all right," I reply pathetically, walking with her to the side door. I can barely feel my legs. It honestly feels as though my bones have evaporated into thin air.

_Stop shaking, Rutherford! What in the Maker's name is wrong with you?!_

I open the door for her and stand aside to let her through first. I notice that my hand trembles against the door handle, and I pray to the Maker that she hasn't noticed.

We step out onto the battlements, the wind howling in my ears. I wait for her to say something—_anything_—but all she does is walk along beside me, obviously lost in her own thoughts and still looking quite uncomfortable.

I awkwardly rub the back of my neck and look out at the scenery, feeling more nervous than I have in _years_.

"It's a… nice day," I manage to say. Or stammer, more like.

Because that is what one tends to talk about when a beautiful lady asks to speak privately with him.

The _weather_.

"What?" she asks, stopping in her tracks. My hopeless incompetence seems to have roused her from her reverie.

_Maker, I need to stop shaking!_

"It's…" I pause briefly in an attempt to gather my thoughts. "There was something you wished to discuss?"

She deliberates for a while, looking down at her feet before meeting my gaze again.

"Cullen, I care for you, and…"

She stammers at the end, letting out a sigh.

"What's wrong?" I ask her softly, miraculously keeping my composure despite what she just said.

She takes a deep breath before continuing.

"You left the Templars, but… Do you trust mages? Could you think of me as anything more?"

_Maker's breath._

_I… I don't know what to think._

_Maker, I do not know what to think!_

"I could," I reply, half convinced that I am dreaming. "I mean, I _do..._think of you. And… and what I might say in this sort of situation."

She rests against the battlements, surveying me thoughtfully.

"Then, what's stopping you?" she asks softly.

Maybe it's the lyrium withdrawal. I'm hallucinating right now. I _must_ be.

"You're the Inquisitor," I tell her. "We're at war, and… you…"

I find myself slowly stepping in closer and closer to her, my eyes fixed on her beautiful brown ones as they continue to appraise me.

"I didn't think it was possible," I continue.

It _isn't_ possible.

How _can_ it be?

"And yet I'm still here," she says.

I'm almost less than a foot away from her now.

"So you are," I murmur softly, my eyes now flitting down to her lips. "It seems too much to ask... but I _want_ to…"

I close my eyes, my lips mere centimetres away from hers.

"Commander!"

_Who in the Maker's name-_

I look up, just about ready to punch something.

James.

More commonly known as Jim.

This isn't happening.

This _cannot_ be happening.

"You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana's report," the young solider says, looking at the report in his hand and apparently completely oblivious to what he has just so unceremoniously walked in on.

_Oh, for the love of-_

I step away from Trevelyan and turn to the young man, only ridicule able to surpass the extreme annoyance I feel at his disturbance.

"What?" I snarl at him.

"Sister Leliana's report?" the soldier says. "You wanted it delivered without delay."

I advance towards him menacingly, resisting the urge to shake him and _wake him up_.

_Is he really that blind?_

Finally, by some miracle straight from the Maker himself, clueless Jim gets the idea and starts to back away, his blue eyes widening in horror and his face turning an alarmingly red shade.

"Or, to your office!" he stutters as he continues to back away to my office door. "Right."

I stand there and continue to glare at him until I see the door shut behind him.

"If you need to—"

I'm not sure how it happened, but the next thing I know, I am kissing Trevelyan with an urgency that takes me by complete surprise.

I think I may have startled her to begin with; I cannot be too sure, however, since my mind is all but consumed by a senseless, intoxicating haze.

I threw away all thought and rationalisation through the window.

Or, in this case, down the battlements.

All I can do is _show_ her.

There is no need for thoughts.

And so I _do_ show her, and she- by a blessing from the Maker himself-does the same.

"I-I'm sorry," I murmur after lightly pulling away. "That was umm… really nice."

_Did I really just say that?_

She smiles, sending a shiver through my spine when I feel her lightly stroking my curls.

"_That_ was what I wanted," she purrs.

"Oh," I smile seductively. "Good."

I come in for another kiss, this one deeper and even more passionate than the first.

No one else and nothing else in the world exists.

Right now, at this very moment, all I can feel are her lips against mine, moist and soft, a tingling numbness spreading all the way from my head to my toes.

Her fingers tangle into my hair, pulling me closer to her.

My hands are at her hips, pressing her against me, not caring that she can very clearly _feel_ my excitement against her.

All my anxiety, all the nerves and stutters and stammers... they are all gone.

I hear her sigh into my mouth, and I slide my tongue into hers, my knees buckling when she follows suit.

And after what truly seems like hours, I pull away, only to come back for a few lighter, much briefer kisses.

I rest my forehead against hers, the sound of our panting nearly drowned out by the beat of my heart drumming loudly in my ears.

"For how long have you wanted to do that?" she asks playfully, a little out of breath.

I chuckle lightly when I think of the answer.

"Longer than I should admit," I smile.

_Weeks_.

_Several_ _weeks_.

_Soon after I first met you, in fact._

But she doesn't need that to know that.

She unlocks her arms from around my neck and slides away from me, looking out over the battlements at the breathtaking view before us.

I watch her as she stares ahead, unable to wipe the stupid smirk off my face.

I am barely able to believe my good fortune.

In fact, part of me is still very insistent that this just a cruel, yet perfect dream that I will soon awake from.

"Would you have done anything about it?" she asks after a stretch of silence. "About your feelings towards me, I mean." She turns her gaze back to me. "If I hadn't approached you first, would you have done so instead?"

I place my elbows on the battlements and lean forward, looking out as I carefully consider an answer.

"I… I'm not sure," I respond. "Part of me would like to think that I would have eventually said something… but... if I hadn't gotten any sort of encouragement from you…"

I look at her, momentarily losing my train of thought when I see her lips, which are a little swollen from our recent display of affection.

"Encouragement?" she asks with amusement. "Wasn't I obvious enough already?"

I blink in surprise, feeling at a complete loss of what to say.

"Uhh…"

She laughs at my obvious confusion.

"Maker's breath," she shakes her head at me. "You men truly are a hopeless lot."

I smile awkwardly and rub my neck, uncertain of how to respond.

"But that is all conjecture," she smiles, her voice suddenly closer than it was a moment ago. "We're _here_ now."

She runs her fingers through my hair, and once again, all of my doubt and hesitation is pushed away, replaced by a sudden boldness that makes me wrap my arms around her and cover her lips with mine.

"I'd better get going," she murmurs against my lips. "Cassandra wanted to talk to me about something."

"All right," I whisper.

I stroke the hair away from her eyes and kiss her forehead before stepping back.

"I'll see you later," she smiles over her shoulder, before walking away in the opposite direction.

"Yes," I breathe.

With a wide grin plastered onto my face, I slowly make my way back to my office (with a few stolen glances over my shoulder for one last glimpse of her), still able to feel the touch of her lips against mine.

I shut the door behind me and stand in the centre of the room, my mind repeatedly running through the numerous kisses we had just shared.

I am so _elated_, I could almost jump and dance for joy.

And you know what?

I think I just might.


	8. Fair Play

"Your turn."

I smile as I watch her survey the chess board with a furrowed brow.

She's playing fair.

That's a refreshing change from playing against Dorian. That man _always_ cheats. And he _always_ thinks I can't _tell_ when he cheats.

She hesitantly picks up a pawn and moves it forward.

It is so _endearing_, how seriously she is taking this.

"You're quite good at this, aren't you?" she asks.

"Not quite as good as you," I smile. "You've just won."

"Have I?"

I laugh at her genuine surprise.

"It appears so," I grin.

"But you had me cornered not two minutes ago!" she exclaims.

"You managed to weasel your way out of it, it seems," I shrug.

"Huh."

She sits back and surveys the board, the breeze from the courtyard lightly playing with her hair.

"I haven't played chess in _ages_," she remarks.

I smile as I watch the sun capture her locks, highlighting a deep, golden hue that is quite unnoticeable in the dark.

"As a child, I played this with my sister," I tell her. "She would get this stuck up grin whenever she won—which was _all_ the time."

She sits up, her eyes immediately lighting up in interest.

"You have siblings?" she asks.

"Two sisters and a brother," I nod.

She gets up from her chair and makes her way towards me with a smile. She slowly sits on my lap, caressing the side of my face and sending all _sorts_ of thrills through my body.

"Tell me about them," she requests softly, her face inches away from mine.

_Maker_…

I'm not sure I can tell her _anything _right now. I fear I may have lost the ability to form coherent words.

I snake my arms around her waist, gulping as I try to summon the boldness that took over me on the battlements.

"What would you like to know?" I ask her gently.

"Hmmm," she muses while she twists one of my curls around her finger. "Let's start with chess. When did you start playing?"

_Andraste have mercy… I can't think straight!_

"When I was around ten," I reply, trying my best to speak in an even, calm voice. "My sister, being the eldest, always played it with our father. My brother and I practiced together for _weeks_." I chuckle as the memory comes flooding back to me. "The look on her face the day I finally won…"

She watches me with great interest, completely absorbed in what I have to say.

I gently tuck a lock of hair behind her ears.

"Between serving with the Templars and the Inquisition, I haven't seen them in _years_," I continue. "I wonder if she still plays…"

"Where are your siblings now?" she asks.

"They moved to South Reach after the blight," I reply, a little confused by her curiosity about my family. "I do not write them as often as I should."

She must have sensed the guilt in my tone, because she leans in and softly kisses me, almost as though in an attempt to soothe my regret.

"Then write them," she suggests simply.

Maker, it really is that simple, isn't it?

I've been a terrible brother.

I smile at her and cup the side of her face with my palm, gently caressing her cheekbone with my thumb.

"Yes," I murmur. "I think I just might."

She strokes my hair absentmindedly, her eyes a little distant as she contemplates something in her head.

"The Commander of the Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste," she says with an air of contrived pomp. "_That_ will have people talking."

I sigh and roll my eyes, suddenly aware of the few people nearby in the courtyard.

"You wouldn't believe how quickly gossip spreads through the barracks," I reply darkly.

She immediately stops stroking my hair and sits up straight.

"Does it bother you?" she asks.

I tighten my arms around her waist to stop her from leaving my embrace.

Normally, I'd care about upholding professionalism within the barracks, but word has already spread as it is. And it is not as though we are going _overboard_ with our displays of affection. In fact, I have noticed that people find it quite endearing, that the two of us found each other in the midst of all this… chaos.

"I would rather my—_our_—private affairs remain that way," I respond honestly. "But if there were nothing here for people to talk about, I would regret it more. So, no. It doesn't bother me. Not at all."

She instantly relaxes and brings her arms around my neck.

"I'm glad," she murmurs before leaning in for another kiss.

_Her mouth is so_ _warm_…

_If I could only take her up to my quarters—_

Maker's breath.

It is far too early to even _hope _for that.

I wouldn't want her to think I am some perverted scoundrel who couldn't wait to get his hands on her.

No.

I am more than willing to take it slow.

I am more than willing to do _anything_ for her.

And that happens to include purposely letting her win at chess.

Although part of me suspects she wasn't fooled by that act.

I have always been such a terrible liar.

Still, it was kind of her to play along with the charade.

"I should get going," she says, gently pulling away from me. I loosen my arms and allow her to get up, my eyes shamelessly marvelling at her figure.

"As should I," I say, standing up and lightly stretching. "There's still a lot of work ahead."

Right on cue, a soldier walks up to me, standing at attention as he apparently waits for me to address him first.

Seems like Jim has shared that little 'incident' with the rest of the troops.

As I expected, of course.

"Yes, Matthew?" I ask the young man.

"Ser Rylen has a report on our supply lines," the soldier responds, handing me the report in his hands.

I scan it and look up at Evelyn—yes, I have finally gotten used to addressing her by her first name.

"As I was saying," I smile at her.

"We'll talk later," she smiles back and disappears through a door.

"Is there anything else, Matthew?" I ask the soldier.

"Nothing at present, Sir."

"All right," I sigh and crack my neck. "Get the rest of the Lieutenants and meet me in my office."

"Yes, Sir!"

I continue to stand in place as I read the report in greater detail.

"So… you and the Inquisitor, hmm?"

I look up to see a sneering Dorian leaning against a pillar, observing me as though I were… a _prey_ of some sort.

"Oh, don't look so surprised," he says, slowly walking towards me. "It was bound to happen, wasn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask him with a raised brow.

"The chemistry between you two is as obvious as the breach in the sky," he responds in his usual, drawling manner. "Only an idiot wouldn't have seen it coming."

When I don't say anything in response, he chuckles. Possibly because of whatever it is that my facial expressions might be doing right now.

"For what it's worth, I'm happy for you, Commander," the mage continues. "You two make an excellent pairing, if I say so myself."

"Thank you," I reply professionally. "Now if you will excuse me, I have some work to attend to." I turn on my heels and walk away, my attention back on the report in my hands.

"Pity."

I stop in my tracks and turn my head to look at him.

"Pardon?" I ask.

"Pity," he repeats, slowly advancing towards me. "She beat me to the chase, so to speak. You _are_ rather… _strapping_."

_Andraste's flaming sword_.

"I—wh-what?" I stammer.

I stand there, mouth half open, as Dorian spontaneously bursts into a fit of laughter.

"You should see the look on your face!" he exclaims with joy.

_What in the Maker's name just happened?_

I scratch my brow, feeling incredibly lost.

"Oh, Commander," Dorian grins and claps me on the back. "You really should try to relax. Just let loose once in a while, _breathe_! Accept a compliment for what it is! I shall have to have a word with our dear Inquisitor and give her a few pointers on how to help you..._unwind_. I am quite adept at helping men unwind, last I checked. Of that, I can assure you."

_Maker's breath_.

"You want to—_what_?" I splutter incredulously, shrugging his hand off my back. "N-No! Absolutely not! What Evelyn—I mean, the _Inquisitor _and I do is entirely our business."

"_Evelyn_, is it?" Dorian smirks.

I am going to hurt that mage very soon if he does not stop this foolishness and allow me to walk away.

"I think we are finished here," I grumble, walking away and leaving him with that ridiculous smirk in those ridiculous Tevinter robes.

"For what it's worth, I meant it when I said I was happy for the two of you!" he calls out after me. "I can only imagine how attractive your offspring will be! Nearly as attractive as I, I dare say!"

Despite my irritation, I can't help but smirk at his final remark. With my back turned to him, of course.

That Dorian...he's a good man.


	9. An Unexpected Pleasure

"_Dear Mia, I'm still alive. Your loving brother, Cullen."_

I stare at the first line of my sister's letter, guilt racking through me.

That is all she wants.

A simple sentence assuring her of my well being.

That her younger brother still draws breath.

And I haven't even thought of doing _that_ of my own accord.

Despicable.

I set the letter down on my desk, thoroughly disgusted with myself. I reach over and pull a fresh roll of parchment towards me. I pick up my quill, dip the tip into my ink bottle, and scratch the greeting onto the parchment.

**_Dear Mia,_**

I pause.

I can't think straight.

I set down the quill and rub my face in frustration. I feel my beard—which I have thoroughly neglected to shave this past week—scratch against the palms of my hands.

I can't keep doing this to myself.

I can't keep driving myself insane with worry every time she sets off on a mission.

This is her _job_—she is the _Inquisitor_.

And I am the Commander of her forces.

Yet here I am, unable to focus on anything for longer than a minute before thoughts of worry flood my mind.

I even picked up my sister's letter in an attempt to distract myself from Evelyn's absence.

I sigh, my eyes scanning my desk before resting on an elaborately carved wooden box to my right.

I stare at it for a long while, before my hand slowly stretches towards it.

_Maybe just one quick draught._

_One quick draught to put my mind at ease…_

My fingers trembling slightly, I grasp the edge of the box, lifting the lid to open it—

"Maker's breath!"

I nearly topple off my chair backwards when one of Leliana's messengers swoops in through the window behind me, dropping a folded piece of parchment from its beak before flying back out.

I quickly pick up the parchment and unfold it.

_**She's back**_.

Grinning from ear to ear, I immediately jump up and rush towards the door, only stopping for a few seconds to check my reflection in the mirror.

The stubble is a mess and the hair _could_ look more presentable, but I am beyond caring, frankly. I practically sprint across the battlements to the main hall, ignoring Solas' raised brow when I rush through his room.

"Woahhh, hold on there, Curly!" Varric calls out when he sees me in the main hall. "She isn't at the war room, yet."

"Well then, where is she?" I ask impatiently.

"She's getting herself patched up by the surgeon. Nothing serious, now!" the dwarf quickly adds when he sees the shock on my face. "Just a sprained ankle. Which she apparently made worse when she tried to heal it herself with her magic, believe it or not."

"Maker's breath," I shake my head and attempt to take a few deep breaths. A few of the nobles are watching us with great interest. "What did she do? Why wasn't she on her horse?"

"She cares too much about it," Varric shrugs. "Doesn't want to risk riding it into a fight. And we stumble across _a lot_ of fights."

I roll my eyes at the incredulity of it all.

"Oh, for the love of—" I sigh. "Fine. I'm going to go see if she's all right."

"Go right ahead, lover boy," Varric winks.

Painfully aware of all the eyes upon me, I manage to walk out of the main hall with some semblance of decorum. As soon as I am outdoors, however, I rush down the stairs towards the surgeon's camp, my eyes scanning the bedrolls for her.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see her sitting upright on a stool, laughing and chatting with the surgeon, Cassandra standing over her like a mother hen and watching the surgeon wrap her ankle.

"Cullen!" Evelyn calls out in delight when she sees me.

I smile and take a knee at her side, nodding at Cassandra as I gently taking Evelyn's hand in mine.

"Varric told me," I tell her softly.

"That I am hopelessly incompetent at healing magic?" she asks humorously.

"That, and the fact that you seem to believe the Inquisition's horses are too precious for battle," I reply wryly.

"Well, they are!" she exclaims indignantly.

I roll my eyes and chuckle, happy to have her back safe and sound after a week of being apart.

"There," the surgeon announces. "All done. Just stay off it as much as you can for at least a week, Inquisitor."

"Or use the horses like they are meant to be used," I mutter under my breath. I laugh when she smacks me playfully in the arm.

I carefully help her up onto her feet.

"Cullen, it's a sprained ankle," she says, commenting on the firm, careful hold I have on her. "It's not like I've _broken_ anything."

"Do you need help bathing or changing into clean clothes, Inquisitor?" Cassandra asks. "I can arrange for one of the servants—"

"No, Cassandra, that won't be necessary," Evelyn smiles. "Thank you, in any case. I think I can manage from here."

"As you wish," Cassandra replies. Her eyes glance over to me. "Commander, we will need to discuss a few matters in the war room with Leliana and Jospehine."

"I will be right there," I nod.

She nods back and, as she walks away, I could almost swear I catch a hint of a knowing smile on her lips.

"Well, I'd better head off and clean myself before the entire Inquisition passes out from the stench."

I hold my arm out and stop her just as she starts to limp away.

"And where do you think you're going with _that_?" I ask her incredulously, gesturing towards her foot.

"Up to my quarters," she responds with confusion. "Why?"

I laugh and shake my head at her cluelessness.

"Have you not heard what the surgeon just told you? You are supposed to let it rest for _at least_ a week. I don't recall climbing up endless sets of stairs to be considered 'resting', last I checked. Or perhaps I am mistaken?"

I raise my eyebrows at her, grinning when she rolls her eyes.

"Oh, for the love of—_Woah_!"

In one swift movement, I lift her up in my arms, cradling her like I had when she found us in the Frostback Mountains.

"What do you think you're doing?" she chastises me.

"My duty," I smirk, ignoring her protests and making my way to the first set of stairs leading to the fortress.

"Oh, you are being decidedly ridiculous right now, you know that?" she exclaims angrily. "Everyone's looking at us! Now they're all going to make a big deal out of—"

"Would you please calm down?" I laugh at her fuming reaction. "All I am doing is carrying you up a flight of stairs. Is that really so horrible?"

She briefly reflects on the matter.

"No," she sighs in defeat. "No, I suppose it's not."

When we enter the main hall, every noble and servant's head turns to look at us, mouths open and eyebrows raised.

"Inquisitor!" an Orlesian nobleman gasps. "What on earth has happened to you, your worship?"

"Just a sprained ankle, nothing serious," she replies politely. I smirk when she shoots me an accusatory look that clearly states that this is somehow all my fault.

"I think you can put me down now."

"And the flight of stairs leading up to your quarters?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes again.

"Urgh, _fine_," she grumbles.

I open the door leading up to her quarters and carefully climb up the stairs.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she asks me.

I grin down at her, completely enamoured by her annoyance at me.

"Indeed I am," I smirk.

I stop when we arrive at the landing, preparing to set her down. I am completely taken by surprise when she wraps her arms around my neck, refusing to let me do so.

"Where do you think you're going?" she purrs.

I feel a jolt surge through me, my pulse instantly quickening.

"Wh-what do you mean?" I stammer.

She smiles and kisses me, deeply and earnestly—a kiss that clearly communicates that she has missed me almost as much as I missed her.

"Why the sudden change of attitude?" I ask her in between kisses, almost breathless.

"Because we're _alone_," she replies before coming in for an even hungrier kiss.

I feel my legs tremble, and I know I won't be able to support our combined body weight any longer. I blindly make my way to her bed, kissing her every step of the way. I slowly sit us down on the foot of it, and she readjusts herself in my arms until she is straddling me, her knees digging onto the mattress on either side of me.

_I can't believe this is happening, I can't believe this is happening_…

_I can't believe-_

_Wait-_

She pulls away, breathless.

"_Now_ you can leave," she smiles. "And quickly. I am absolutely filthy!"

"You smell fine," I laugh, my blood loudly rushing in my ears.

Truly! She does!

"Of course _you'd_ say that," she says, carefully getting off me.

Only when she gets up does a very unfortunate matter come to my attention.

_Oh Maker_.

_Sweet Maker_.

I…

I look down at my groin, and sure enough, the sheer _excitement_ she caused is _very_ evident.

_Extremely_ evident.

"Is something the matter?" she asks.

"No!" I jump up to my feet and immediately turn my back to her, making my way to the door. "Not at all. I- I just have to- Cassandra needs me. In the war room. I-I shouldn't keep her waiting."

"All right," she looks at me curiously. "I'll see you later."

"Yes, later," I nod impatiently, and quickly slip through the door and shut it behind me. I rest my head against the door, taking the opportunity to catch my breath.

_Maker_.

She hasn't the _slightest_ idea the power she has over me.

I smooth my hair and readjust the clothing over my armour.

Before I open the door leading to the main hall, I look down to ensure that all is clear.

I'm still excited, but it is not so... blatantly obvious now. The black breeches seem to help in concealing it as well, thank the Maker.

I swiftly make my way to the war room, my heart still beating loudly in my ears.

We were so _close_.

We came _so close_…

"Ah, Commander," Cassandra looks up from the map. "Just in time. I was just telling Leliana and Josephine about-"

"What happened to your hair, Commander?" Leliana asks with a knowing grin.

"And why are you so _red_?" Josephine adds, exchanging an impish grin with the bard. Cassandra turns around and carefully looks at me, and even her stern features are softened by a little smirk.

My hand immediately flies up to my hair in a pathetic attempt to tame it.

"I—I had to help the Inquisitor get to her quarters," I reply innocently, taking great care to avoid making eye contact with any of them.

"Oh, I _see_," Leliana giggles, bringing her hand up to her mouth.

"How…_ chivalrous_ of you, Commander," Josephine smirks.

Oh Maker, what did I just walk in on?

"All right, let's get back to discussing the issue at hand," Cassandra says, nodding at me before turning her attention back to the map.

She did that on purpose.

I'll have to thank her later.

"I agree," I reply, leaning down and looking at the map. I am trying my best to ignore the two ladies on either side of me, in addition to the fact that my face is feeling considerably warm at present.

"For what it's worth," Leliana whispers across the table, "That messy look suits you, Commander. You should wear it more often."

_Maker_.

Once the meeting is over, I swiftly return to my office, take my place behind my desk, and, feeling inspired by Evelyn's return, pick up my quill.

**_Dear Mia,_**

**_I'm still alive. _**

I pause, the carved wooden box I pulled toward me earlier catching my eye.

I open a drawer and stow it in there, not giving its contents a second thought.

I take a deep breath and smile down at the unfinished letter.

I think I shall tell my sister about her.

Yes.

I think I shall.


	10. Confessions of a Lyrium Addict

"Commander? Are you all right?"

"Yes. Just lost my balance. Thank you, lieutenant."

I nod at the young officer and steady myself with a deep, rattling breath.

"Lieutenant?" I call out to the officer before she returns to her duties.

"Yes, Commander?"

I steady myself as best I can in as discreet a manner as possible.

"I need you to take over from here, lieutenant," I tell the officer. "I'll be in my office should anyone need me."

"Yes, Commander," she salutes.

I turn and walk away from the training ground, my eye catching Cassandra's when I pass her training station. She nods at me, appraising me intently with her piercing gaze. I am of half a mind to tell her of this most recent bout of… withdrawal complications, but I decide against it.

I can take care of this.

I am almost at the foot of the stairs leading up to the main hall when I hear Sera call out my name.

"Oi! Cullen!"

I turn to see her running towards me with a little white box in her hands.

"Can I help you, Sera?"

"No, but you can help yourself," she replies, thrusting the box into my hands. I look down at it, eyebrows raised in bewilderment.

"Well? Don't just stand there! Open it!" she orders impatiently.

I blink rapidly, looking warily at her expectant face, then back at the white box.

"All-all right," I reply hesitantly. Internally bracing myself, I open it slowly, waiting for something to pounce out at me and—

"Oh," I look up at her, feeling utterly surprised. "It's a cake."

"'Course it is," she shrugs. "What did you think it'd be?"

"Oh, nothing… I just…" I rub the back of my neck, my surprise now replaced with bewilderment. "May I ask what the occasion is?"

"No _occasion_, silly," she grins. "You looked hungry. So I gave it to you. Simple as that."

"Oh. Well… in that case, thank you, Sera. That's… I appreciate the gesture."

"Less appreciating, more eating," she says, and she turns on her heels, heading back to the tavern.

I scratch my head, still not completely sure of what had just transpired.

Strange one, that Sera.

Still, I won't lie; I _do_ have quite the sweet tooth. And Maker knows I could do with the energy.

I stop by one of the dining tables in the main hall and take a dessert spoon before slowly making my way back to my office, the effects of my lyrium withdrawal still very much taking a toll on me.

With a pronounced sigh of relief, I shut my office door and sit down at my desk, setting the cake before me. I open the box and feel quite pleased to see that it is a pound cake—a particular favourite of mine and a detail I did not pick up on when Sera first handed me the box.

I take my first spoonful and close my eyes, savouring it as though it were my first and last. I do the same with all the following mouthfuls, until the box is empty save for a few scattered crumbs.

It amazes me how, of all the people in Skyhold, Sera was the one to pick up on my battered state and know exactly what I needed to lift my spirits.

Spirits that are immediately dimmed when I see the dreaded carved wooden box peeking out at me through the small crack left by an improperly shut drawer.

I look away, suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm. I loosen the fur around my shoulders and step outside onto the battlements for some fresh air.

I don't know for how long I stood there, breathing in the cool air as I attempted to clear my mind. But somehow, I knew she would come.

I smile, my eyes still closed when I feel her arms snake around my waist from behind. I place my hands over both of hers, giving them a light squeeze in acknowledgement.

"I've been waiting to see you all day," I murmur.

"Busy day?" she asks softly, pressing her cheek against my back.

"_Long_ day," I reply. "How about you?"

"_Extremely_ busy," she says, unwrapping her arms from around me and moving to stand by my side. I look down at her and gently cup her face in my hands, leaning in for a kiss. She scrutinizes my face when we pull away, her brow slightly furrowed.

"What's wrong?" she asks, gently stroking my cheek bone. "You seem troubled."

I close my eyes and relish the feel of her fingers against my skin.

I should tell her.

Not because of how I feel about her.

But out of respect for her position as Inquisitor, I _must_ tell her.

"There's uhh…" I look down at her free hand and take it in both of mine, thinking of how to best tell her of the situation. "There's something I must tell you."

She nods silently, calmly following me as I take her by the hand and lead her back to my office. I open the door and let her in first, shutting it quietly behind us.

I walk to my desk and open the first drawer, carefully pulling out the carved wooden box. I place it over the desk and open the lid, revealing a set comprising of a philter, a curved metal scraper, a wooden spoon, and a small vial.

I look up at her to see her watching the box with a solemn expression on her face.

"Do you know what this is?" I ask her gently.

She shakes her head, indicating that she does not.

I place my hands on the desk and lean over it, my gaze fixed on its contents.

"Lyrium grants Templars our abilities," I explain calmly. "But it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer—some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the Templars here. But I… no longer take it."

I have not looked up at her once during my confession.

"You stopped?" she asks after she realizes that I had finished.

"When I joined the Inquisition," I reply. "It's been months now."

"Cullen, if this can kill you—"

"It hasn't yet."

I briefly see a vision of Knight-Commander Meredith in my mind's eye, a vision I want erased completely.

"After what happened in Kirkwall," I murmur, closing my eyes to block the memory. "I couldn't…"

I finally look up at her, guilt flooding me when I see the concerned look on her beautiful face.

"I will not be bound to the Order—or that life—any longer," I tell her firmly. "Whatever the suffering, I accept it."I stand up straight, keen to put some distance between the box and myself. "But I would not put the Inquisition at risk," I continue. "I have asked Cassandra to… watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty."

She nods her understanding, her worried gaze fixed on my face.

"Thank you for telling me," she says softly. "I respect what you're doing."

I feel a small smile creep across my lips.

"Thank you, Evelyn," I say. "The Inquisition's army must always take priority. Should anything happen, I will defer to Cassandra's judgment."

She nods again, her eyes now moving to the innocent-looking box on the desk.

"How are you feeling?" she asks quietly.

"I've…" I take a deep breath. "I've been better. But it is nothing I cannot endure."

She does not appear to be convinced.

_And why on earth is there a desk between us?_

I put the box away and make my way towards her, taking her hands in mine and bringing them up to my lips.

"I will be fine, Evelyn," I murmur, my eyes meeting hers. "I would never risk failing you or the Inquisition."

"This isn't just about the Inquisition, Cullen," she says heatedly, yanking her hands away from me. I feel my mouth slightly open in surprise at her impassioned reaction. "Stop talking like the Inquisition is all that matters. _Of course_ the Inquisition is important, _of course_ the army must be looked after, but so do _you_. _You_ matter to me, Cullen. I…" she looks away, her voice breaking into a whisper. "I don't know what I'd do if something were to happen to you."

I swiftly take her in my arms, feeling at a loss of words to say. I hold her to me, so close that I can feel her heartbeat against my own chest. I bury my face in her hair and close my eyes, breathing in her scent as though it were my oxygen.

She looks up at me, her eyes fearful. I lean in and kiss her—a soft and gentle kiss, trying to convey to her what she would not believe in words.

That I am all right, despite the withdrawal.

I truly am.

How could I _not_ be, with her in my life?

"Nothing is going to happen to me," I tell her reassuringly.

"I've heard about Templars dying from lyrium withdrawal, Cullen," she replies. "_Countless_ of incidents. And that's after they go mad! I—I don't even know how you've managed to stay sane after all this time!"

"Oh, I wouldn't exactly call myself '_sane_'—" I smile wryly.

"Oh, stop," she quips, patting me once on the chest. "This is _serious_."

"I know," I reply gravely. "Which is why I asked Cassandra to watch me. She is a Seeker. She knows exactly what to look out for. I am in good hands, Evelyn. I—" I sigh, guilt racking through me again. "I never intended for this to worry you, my darling."

She closes her eyes as I stroke her hair, and I immediately feel her relax under my gentle touch.

"I know," she replies softly. "I… I overreacted. I'm sorry. It's just that… I _care_ for you, Cullen. I truly do."

I smile, an overwhelming happiness washing over me.

"And I care for _you_," I murmur, slowly brushing my lips against hers. "More than I ever thought possible."

It is incredible how one person can affect your life in so dramatic a fashion.

The _impact_ that this woman has had on me…

I will never be able to put it into words.

No words could ever suffice.

I have never felt so strong, so _complete_, as I do when I am in her arms.

And when she kisses me, everything in the world seems right.

"Your mouth tastes… _sweet_," she remarks when she pulls her lips away.

"Oh," I smile sheepishly. "Sera."

I splutter when I see her eyes widen in shock.

"N-no! Maker's breath, not like _that_!" I exclaim incredulously. "_Never_ like that! What I meant is, she gave me a piece of cake. Pound cake, to be exact."

"Oh?" she raises a dark eyebrow.

"My reaction exactly," I laugh lightly. "She thought I looked 'hungry'".

"That's… nice of her, I suppose," she says with slight confusion.

"I was half-expecting something to jump out at me from the box, to be honest," I say, nodding at the discarded white box on the desk. She looks over at it and laughs.

My favourite sound out of her, that laugh. Apart from when she says my name.

I could never tire of hearing her say my name.

"I wouldn't put it past her," she grins. "Maybe she meant it as a thank you for sending our troops marching through Verchiel like she asked."

"I hadn't thought of that. Indeed it may."

She smiles up at me, her eyes drifting towards the scar on my upper lip. She closes her eyes and kisses it lightly, pulling away and chuckling when her stomach grumbles loudly.

"All that talk about cake is making me hungry," she grins shyly.

"It is nearly lunch time," I remark, looking at the clock. "Would you care to accompany me to the main hall, my lady?" I smile and offer her my arm.

"Why, yes," she smiles, gently sliding her arm into mine. "Yes, I gladly would."

Strolling together to the main hall, arm in arm as we comment on the beautiful weather, I feel as though a heavy weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

However, as much as I was being truthful about coping with my addiction, I will not deny that I downplayed its effect on me to Evelyn.

It _is_ taking a toll on me.

A toll that worsens with each passing day.

But I _will_ endure.

For her, and for the Inquisition.

The Order will not take that away from me.

I will not allow it.


	11. Reunion

**Mildy NSFW. You have been warned!**

* * *

><p>Sleep.<p>

I am in _dire_ need of sleep.

I emerge from one of the carriages that has transported my troops and I back to Skyhold from Emprise du Lion. My head literally _throbbing_, I instruct the soldiers to take the rest of the day off to recuperate from the long journey.

Fighting back a fresh wave of nausea (I have suffered from a number of those these past few days; being cooped up in an airless carriage for several days can do that to a person), I ignore my rumbling stomach and try my best to avoid dragging my feet as I make my way to my quarters, overly eager for a bath and a good night's rest.

On my way up the staircase leading to the battlements, I spot a patrolling scout and walk up to her.

"Is the Inquisitor back from the Western Approach yet, Juliet?" I ask the freckled young woman.

And before you start wandering, yes, I _do_ in fact know all of my troops' first and last names by heart.

Doting parent, remember?

"No, Sir," she replies.

I feel my low spirits dampen even further.

"Thank you, Juliet," I nod and continue on to my office, feeling equal parts crestfallen and exhausted.

Ignoring the fresh stack of reports awaiting me on my desk, I climb up the ladder to my quarters and quickly prepare a bath, not bothering to heat the water past lukewarm temperature. Before I strip my armour off and dip into the bath, I feel a sense of guilt creep up on me as I think back to the reports piling up on my desk. I quickly slide down my ladder and take the topmost report from the pile, intending on reading it while soaking in my bath.

I climb back up to my quarters, the report safely clamped between my pursed lips. I strip and pull a stool next to the bath to set the report on, placing a lit candle beside it to illuminate the darkening room. I get in carefully so as to avoid any splashes and instantly regret not taking the time to properly heat the water.

I sink into the wooden tub and close my eyes, resting my head against the edge and taking a moment to enjoy the absolute quiet and solitude.

Naturally, my mind drifts to the young lady who tends to enjoy occupying my every waking thought.

I sigh as I picture her smile, radiant and perfect.

I miss her.

She left for the Western Approach two weeks before I left on an expedition to Emprise du Lion with my troops, and that was three weeks ago.

Five weeks.

_Maker_.

What I would not give to see her face at this very moment.

To have her here with me...right here in this bath.

I swallow nervously as an image surfaces before my mind's eye.

Nude and wet, she joins me in the bath, her eyes fixed on mine as she slowly slides down over me, straddling me as she did when I carried her to her bedroom, her hair falling over my shoulders as she wraps her arms around my neck and brings her lips down to mine...

_Maker's breath_.

I open my eyes, my breath hitching in excitement. I realise in surprise that both my hands are tightly gripping the edge of the tub, turning my knuckles white.

I look down between my legs, tempted beyond measure for the release that my body so desperately craves. Hesitantly, I slide my hand down, closing my eyes as I allow my mind to drift back to her, permitting the fantasy to play out as I slowly start to pleasure myself.

In my mind, it's _her_ hand wrapped around me, much smaller and softer than my own. I try my best to keep quiet, remembering in some distant corner of my mind that I have an open door policy in my office and that anyone could barge in at any moment.

But it has been so _long_ since I have permitted myself such an indulgence, and I cannot help but moan audibly as I imagine her soft lips against mine, her tongue softly caressing my own as her hand continues to pleasure me, moving faster and more urgently now.

I moan, whispering her name over and over again, my heart drumming rapidly against my chest. Despite the cool weather, I start to sweat, my skin turning hot and flushed.

I bite down on my lip, my entire body twitching, using every ounce of willpower within me to prevent myself from yelling out as I go over the edge.

Panting, I feel my body slowly relax into the tub, recovering from the pleasure it had just experienced, almost foreign in its intensity.

_Sweet Maker, that was incredible._

Seeing as the bath water is not exactly the most hygienic to soak in any longer, I get out and wipe myself dry, my body still shaking from the experience.

I look out my window to ensure that I won't be splashing semen water over some poor soul's head and proceed to empty out the tub's contents when I see that all is clear.

I step over my discarded clothes and take the report with me to bed. I collapse onto the bed face-down, suddenly feeling as though I hadn't slept in _weeks_.

The unread report still in my hand, I feel my eyelids droop as I willingly drift into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>"<em>Cullen."<em>

Her voice drifts into my ear ever so quietly, as though it were a whisper being carried to me from a great distance.

"_Hmmm,"_ I smile happily, feeling as light as a feather.

"_Cullen,"_ I hear her say again, closer this time.

I sigh as I feel her kissing me softly on my cheek, so softly that it almost seems unreal.

I am dreaming.

I am dreaming a beautiful dream and I do not wish to wake up.

So I keep my eyes closed, refusing to shake the dream away.

I feel her slender fingers gently running through my hair, sending a shiver down my spine.

Odd.

Her touch feels so _real._

I do not recall ever experiencing a dream as vivid as this one.

Not even the nightmares.

I feel her kiss me again, on my lips this time, and I lazily kiss her back, struck again by how _real_ and warm her lips feel against mine.

"Evelyn," I mumble, garnering nothing in response.

My eyelids heavy, my eyes flutter open, blinking rapidly against the sunlight. I breathe in deeply, and I can almost swear that her scent is lingering in the air.

I am still lying face-down, my naked body partially draped in my blanket. Gingerly, I sit up, rubbing my eyes as they adjust to the light.

The exceptionally _bright_ light.

The sort of light that signifies it is _well_ past dawn.

I scramble to get out of bed, nearly falling off when I tangle myself in my blanket in haste. I hear a loud, crunching sound beneath me and I immediately reach down, pulling out the now severely crumpled report I had neglected to read last night.

I quickly untangle myself and hop out of bed, pulling on my clothing and armour and attempting to tame my hair simultaneously.

Once I am presentable, I climb down the ladder to my office, report once again clamped between my lips.

_Maker's breath, it's already ten in the morning!_

I rush to my desk and scan my daily planner, breathing a huge sigh of relief when I see that recruit training is not scheduled until later this afternoon.

_This can never happen again_, I scold myself angrily as I smooth out the crumpled report over my desk.

At least the throbbing headache is gone.

As I smooth out the report, I realise that it is a request from Ser Rylen to meet him in Haven to sort out the recovered equipment left behind in the battle with Corypheus.

_No rest for the wicked_, I think grimly.

My stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me that I hadn't had anything to eat these past twenty four hours.

Placing a heavy tome over the report to permanently smooth it out, I make my way to the door to have some breakfast.

I pull open the door and quite spectacularly walk into someone, nearly sending the tray in their hands flying off the battlements.

"Inquisitor!" I gasp in horror when I realise who it is. "I-I mean, Evelyn. Forgive me, I was not paying attention to where I was going-"

"It's all right, Cullen," she chuckles at my panicked stammering.

I feel my face turn red, and I look down to see the tray in her hands laden with food.

"I thought I'd get you some breakfast in bed," she explains with a smile. "Seeing as you seemed very reluctant to leave it."

I look at her, blinking in confusion.

"But I thought- you mean you were- that wasn't-"

"A dream?" she smiles, walking past me into my office. "No. No, it certainly wasn't."

I follow her, slowly shutting the door behind me, feeling completely dazed.

_Maker, am I still dreaming?_

"I came up to see if you were all right," she says, setting the tray down on my desk, being careful to place it as far away from the reports as possible. "It's not like you to stay in bed this late into the morning. I thought maybe you weren't feeling well."

I smile warmly as I watch her pour some tea into two porcelain teacups. I walk up to her and wrap my arms around her from behind, burying my face in her hair.

"Maker, I've _missed _you," I whisper.

She turns around in my arms and faces me, bringing her soft palms up to my face. She closes her eyes and kisses me, as softly and as gently as she did when I was still asleep.

"I've missed you too," she murmurs, resting her head against my chest. My stomach rumbles loudly in the quiet of my office, and she grins up at me, endearment clear in her striking eyes.

"Time for some breakfast, I think," she says, turning her attention back to the food tray. She places slices of ham,cheese and an Orlesian pastry called a croissant on a plate and places it before my chair on the desk, setting the tea beside it.

Still smiling, I kiss the side of her neck from behind and stride to my chair, my mouth salivating at the sight of the food awaiting me.

"Thank you, my darling," I tell her softly, taking my first bite as I watch her prepare the same meal for herself.

She smiles shyly, my heart skipping a beat when I see red painting her cheeks. She sits on the edge of the table and takes a sip of tea, shielding her eyes from the sunlight glaring through the window behind me.

"Well, this isn't going to work," she says, swiftly picking up her plate and tea and making her way to my side of the desk. She starts to sit on the desk again, but I take her hand and gently pull her towards me, silently urging her to sit on my lap. She blushes again as she shyly complies with my request.

"When did you get back?" I ask her, twirling a lock of her hair around my finger.

"Late last night," she replies. "You?"

"Around sundown."

She studies my face silently, brushing what must be crumbs of croissant from around my lips.

"You look tired," she remarks, her brow slightly furrowed in concern.

"It was a long journey," I reply.

She reaches for her plate on the table and tears off a piece of her croissant.

"How is your head? Are the headaches any better?" she asks before popping the morsel into her mouth.

"Same as ever," I reply, slightly distracted as I watch her lips, slightly wet from the tea. She reaches over to pick up her teacup, my heart speeding as I focus on her slender hand, watching her raise the cup up to her lips.

The very hands I shamelessly fantasized about last evening...

I repress a shudder, tearing my thoughts away from the memory, still fresh and vivid in my mind.

"Your breakfast isn't going to eat itself, Cullen," she jokes.

"Oh," I lean forward to grab my plate, but she beats me to the chase, taking it in her hands before nestling back against me.

"Allow me," she murmurs, taking what is left of the croissant and bringing it to my lips. I open my mouth, eyes fixed on hers, suddenly feeling much warmer. She deliberately caresses my lower lip with her thumb as she pulls her hand away, my body tensing in reaction.

I chew the last morsel slowly, ignoring the fresh stream of butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. She sets down my empty plate and finishes her own breakfast, her attention now focused on the stack of reports on my desk.

I admire the golden honey hue the bright morning sun casts on her hair. I lift my hand up and gently flip it to one side, revealing the smooth skin of her neck, pale in comparison to her face, no doubt covered by her armour during her recent sojourn into the desert.

I lean forward and kiss it, lightly and softly, my lips barely touching her skin. She shudders and places her teacup on the desk. She turns her face towards me, bringing her lips down to mine and kissing me with an urgency that takes me by surprise. She runs her fingers through my hair and grabs it, pulling me closer to her, sending my head spinning when I hear and feel her sigh into my mouth.

I slide my mouth away from hers and lick her lower lip before moving down to her jaw and neck, where I linger because I know she is sensitive there. She stretches her neck, throwing her head back and groaning as I continue to kiss her, teasing her skin with my tongue, tasting her with it.

My hands slide from her back to her breasts, squeezing and caressing them ever so gently, finding her nipples with my thumbs.

She squirms under my touch as she whispers my name, filling me with the confidence that I lacked so often when in her presence.

She tilts my face up and kisses me chaotically, her hands moving down to-

We both jump when we hear the door open, our breath stopping in its tracks.

Leliana.

_Of all the-_

In a sudden and baffling move, Evelyn jumps up and ducks down by my feet, bringing a finger up to her (now swollen) lips as she tries to suppress a laugh.

"Leliana," I breath, noticing that she has her eyes fixed on a report in her hand and taking the opportunity to flatten my hair.

"Commander, this just arrived from Redcliffe," she says, still not looking up as she makes her way to my desk. "I thought you'd want to see it. It's from the Arl."

She finally looks up and pauses when she sees the tray and empty plates on my desk.

"I haven't interrupted anything, have I?" she asks.

_No hint of a teasing smile? No knowing smirk or smart remark?_

Maker, _that's_ a relief.

"No, not at all," I reply innocently, piling the plates and teacups and setting them on the tray.

She nods, internally groaning when I realise her eyes lingering on my lips.

Which must _also_ be swollen.

_Bloody bards_.

Evelyn lets out a little snicker, and I quickly cough to cover the sound.

"What was that?" Leliana asks.

"Nothing," I reply, still clearing my throat. "Just a dry throat, that's all."

She flashes me a look that clearly indicates she doesn't buy it, but she lets it go all the same.

"Art Teagan is asking for reparations for the damage caused by the rebel mages," she explains. "Have a read and tell me what you think."

She places the report before me and leaves, silently shutting the door behind her.

"Is she gone?" Evelyn mouths up at me.

"Yes. Although, being Leliana, I'd wager she knew exactly what was going on."

"That's true," she replies. "No matter. It's not as though our relationship is a secret. Good call with the fake cough, by the way. Might want to sound a bit more convincing next time, though," she adds with a grin.

I laugh and shake my head.

"I'll see what I can do," I smile, standing up beside her.

She looks around, swinging her arms at her side.

"Well, I'd best be off," she says. "Long day ahead."

"Long day indeed," I nod, my eyes flitting over to my daily planner.

"I'll take these back to the kitchen," she says, moving to take the tray on the desk.

"No," I say, placing my hand on her shoulder. "Allow me to take care of that."

"No, I should-"

"Please, Evelyn," I smile. "I insist."

She stands up straight and smiles back, the sun illuminating her eyes under its glare.

"All right," she says. "I suppose I'll see you later, then?"

"Of course," I reply.

She turns on her heels and starts to walk to the door, but I take her hand and stop her. She turns around to face me, my lips covering hers as soon as she turns. I kiss her softly, in stark contrast to the passionate kiss we shared a few minutes earlier.

"Until later, my darling" I murmur, gazing down at her beautiful face.

"Until later," she smiles, sliding her thumb against my cheekbone before I loosen my hold on her and let her go.

I watch her leave, not looking away even after the door shuts behind her.

Upon snapping back into my senses, I shake my head and grin to myself as I clean the morsels off my desk.

_Maker_.

_I am a lucky, lucky man._


	12. The Missing Piece

"Evelyn, I was wondering whether you would accompany me to Ferelden?"

_No, that doesn't sound right._

How about, "Evelyn, I have been called to Ferelden to attend to some dealings. Would you like to accompany me?"

_No, that doesn't work either_.

_Maybe..._

"I will be going to Ferelden for some dealings soon. Do you think you would be able to accompany me on the trip?"

A knock on my office door causes me to spin away from the window, where I have spent the last ten minutes practicing various ways to ask the Inquisitor to accompany me in my upcoming trip to my homeland.

"Commander? You asked to see me?"

"Ah yes, Lieutenant," I nod at the Templar. "As you know, I will be away on business in Ferelden for a day this week—I'm still not certain which day yet- but I wanted to go over the training schedule with you in case I do not get another opportunity to do so before my departure."

"Of course, Ser," the Templar nods.

As we discuss the training schedule over the desk, I smell the unmistakable pungent scent of lyrium wafting from the lieutenant's breath, indicating that he has recently taken a draught.

Every muscle in my body turns rigid in an instant, my cravings rapidly taking a strong hold of me.

"Commander?" the Templar notices my trembling arms against the desk. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I reply roughly, wiping the fresh sweat droplets that have started to form across my forehead.

"But, Commander," the Templar protests, "You're shaking, Ser."

"I told you I'm fine, lieutenant," I snarl through gritted teeth as the scent wafts from his breath again. "Turn your attention away from me and focus on the schedule before you. Now tell me," I take slow steadying breaths to calm myself, "Do you have any issues you would like to bring up? Or is everything clear?"

"Everything is clear, Commander," he replies, his eyes flitting towards me in concern.

"Good," I say, discreetly taking a few steps away from him. "You can have the schedule until I've returned."

"Yes, Commander," he salutes and turns on his heels.

I wait for the door to shut behind him before I pour myself some water and quickly gulp it down. I set the jug on the desk and wipe my brow, slightly shivering as a cool breeze blows into my office through the window, the cold accentuated by my sweating state.

I spend the next few hours of the morning occupying my mind with war report analysis and preparing troop schedules for the next week. By noon, however, I have nothing left to work on, and I find myself devising various excuses to run into Evelyn and sneakily bring up the topic of Ferelden.

I cannot seem to be able to bring myself to simply approach her and strike up a conversation, despite being romantically involved with her for quite a while now. Granted, we haven't been _intimate_ with each other yet, but still... I always leave it to _her_ to talk to _me_. I suppose I worry about taking up her time or the possibility of irritating her.

Not that she is easily irritated.

Far from it, in fact.

_All right..._

_So, if I were to see her at the dining hall during lunch and perhaps casually bring up the topic?_

_Maker, this would all be so much easier if she were to just happen to drop-_

"Hello."

I look up and rise to me feet, a wide smile breaking across my face.

"There you are!," I say with relief.

She curiously raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she watches me with amusement.

"Were you waiting for me?" she asks.

"Yes. I mean no!"

_Andraste preserve me._

_I've gone mad!_

"I can come back later if you'd prefer," she offers.

"No!" I protest. "Please stay."

"All right..." she smiles and walks to where I stand behind the desk. My arms automatically wrap themselves around her waist and pull her against me, and I lean in for a gentle kiss.

"We have some dealings in Ferelden," I tell her after we pull apart. "I was hoping you might accompany me. When you can spare the time, of course."

_That actually sounded quite all right!_

I worry when I see her brow furrow slightly.

"Is something wrong?" she asks, her concerned eyes searching my face.

"What? No!" I reply instantly. "I-I would rather explain there. If you wish to go."

A warm smile finds its way back to her lips again, and she strokes my cheekbone with her thumb as she considers it.

"I believe there's time now," she replies softly. "I don't think I have anything urgent coming up today or tomorrow."

"Excellent," I smile. "I will make the necessary arrangements at once."

"At once?" she feigns disappointment. "I thought you might have some time. I haven't seen you at all this morning."

"Oh, I erm..." I rub the back of my neck, flustered. "What I meant is-"

She smiles and silences me with her lips, making my knees buckle as she slides her tongue into my mouth and runs her fingers through my hair.

"I know what you meant," she breathes, resting her forehead against mine. "You're so gullible, you know that? One of the many things I love about you."

_Love?_

_Maker, did she just say 'love'?_

"I can't even _begin_ to name the things I love about you," I say in a raw voice, emboldened by her declaration.

Not that it is an _actual_ declaration of love.

But it is close.

No one can deny me _that_, at least.

She grins shyly, the blood rushing to her cheeks.

"Come on," she says, taking my hand in hers and leading me to the door.

"Where to?"

"Lunch," she replies simply. "As much as you'd like to _think_ you can live off your work, I must regretfully inform you that it is _not_, in fact, possible."

I chuckle and allow her to drag me to the main hall, despite the fact that I do not feel hungry in the slightest. Catching the scent of lyrium from my lieutenant's breath and the episode it triggered within me hasn't exactly helped with working up my appetite.

But for her, I would do _anything_.

So, despite the throbbing headache, I proudly take my seat beside her at one of the crowded dining tables and listen to her tell me about the Venatori and darkspawn she encountered in her recent journey to the Western Approach.

"You've been smiling for a while now," she remarks after a particularly interesting description of the Abyssal High Dragon she slew for a researcher from the University of Orlais.

"Have I?" I ask softly, enamored by her enthusiasm.

"You have," she replies. "You seem a little... distracted."

"Perhaps I _am_ a little distracted," I grin as I brush the hair away from her eyes, completely oblivious to the bulging eyes and wagging tongues of every Orlesian noble among us.

She blushes, shyly averting my gaze and looking down.

"Cullen, you've barely touched your lunch," she remarks worriedly.

I look down at my full plate, its contents now long cold.

I consider my response for a moment.

I _could_ make up an excuse such as having had a late breakfast, but that would be a lie, and I could _never_ lie to her, no matter how noble my motivations.

So I settle for the truth.

"I..." I exhale loudly, looking around to see who else is listening.

"It's all right," she says softly, gently placing her hand over mine. "You don't have to explain."

I smile warmly at her, placing my hand over hers to convey my gratitude.

"Now," she slides her hand away and dabs at her lips with a napkin. "Shall we arrange that trip to Ferelden, then?"

I grin crookedly at her smiling face.

"At once, my lady," I nod.

Maker, how I _adore_ her.

* * *

><p>"Are you cold?"<p>

Evelyn turns away from the carriage window and meets my gaze. Seated across from me in the carriage transporting us to Ferelden, I notice that she is visibly shivering.

"Only a little," she admits.

I smile and move to sit beside her, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders and gently pulling her close against me.

"Is that better?" I murmur, tucking my chin over her head after she nestles against the fur on my chest.

"Much," she smiles. She accidentally brushes her hand against my groin as she wraps her arm around the front of my waist. I shudder, every muscle in my body tensing momentarily.

"What's wrong?" she looks up at me.

I smile, but I can already feel the heat creeping up my neck.

"Nothing," I reply softly. She smiles back and brings her hand to the side of my face, gently pulling me closer for a kiss.

We are entirely alone in this carriage.

The driver is unable to see or hear us, and the curtains can easily be drawn to conceal us from on-lookers.

My heart starts racing as I dwell on the above facts, her lips and tongue still against my own.

It would be so _easy_ for us to finally let go, alone here in a carriage in the middle of the Frostbacks.

To finally be together in a _physical_ sense.

But I want our first time together to be special.

Beautiful.

_Perfect._

A carriage is hardly the right place for such an important occasion.

And so I resist, pushing the temptation out of my mind as I continue to kiss her, the taste and feel of her mouth inducing the familiar intoxicating haze in my head.

I love her.

And I want to tell her.

The words are hanging on my lips, ready to be declared.

Our lips part, but I come back for several more lighter kisses, unable to believe my good fortune as she tenderly smiles up at me.

She completes me.

Before her, I was a shadow of a person, bitter and broken, damaged by what I went through in the Ferelden and Kirkwall Circles. A vital piece of me was stolen, or broken in the turmoil, and I thought I had lost it forever.

But now, here she is.

My missing piece.

And I cannot bear the thought of ever being without her.

_So tell her_.

"Evelyn," I murmur, playing with a lock of her hair.

"Hmm?"

"I..."

She patiently watches me, but I can see the anticipation in her eyes.

I swallow, trying to control the minor trembling of my hands.

_Now is the perfect time_.

_Do not squander this opportunity and __**tell **__her_.

I smile warmly at her and lightly kiss her forehead.

"I'm glad you came," I manage to murmur.

Not just for this journey.

But into my _life_.

She smiles and nestles her head against my chest again.

"I'm glad you asked me," she replies drowsily, unaware of the true meaning behind my words.

Not _quite_ how I intended it to come out, but it will have to do.

For now, at least.


	13. Heat

**NSFW!**

* * *

><p>"Here you go, Commander. Good as new."<p>

I accept my sword from one of the blacksmith's assistants and examine it in the firelight.

"Perfect," I sheathe the sword and nod. "Thank you."

"Of course, Commander."

I step out of the armoury into the bright mid-morning sun, my eyes moving to the training dummies before me.

I see Cassandra occupied with swinging aggressive hits at the dummies with her sword, her skin glistening with sweat despite the cool morning breeze.

"Mind if I join you?" I call out as I approach her.

She pauses and turns to me, panting to catch her breath.

"Be my guest," she replies with a glint in her amber eyes.

With a smirk playing on my lips, I shrug out of what many jokingly call my 'lion's mane' and pull out my sword from its sheath, the glaring sunlight nearly blinding me in its brightness when it flashes against the newly polished silverite.

We swing our swords at the dummies, our efforts loudly echoing across the courtyard. Exhilarated, I ignore the burning sweat dropping into my eyes, barely stopping to catch my breath in between swings.

I throw my sword to the ground and pull off my leathers and armour, revealing my bare chest, glistening with sweat all over. Cassandra quickly follows suit, leaving on her sleeveless undershirt and revealing strong, lithe, muscular arms, lighter in shade in comparison to the regularly exposed parts of her body.

"_Now_ we're talking!" Sera wolf whistles from her window above the tavern.

I snort when Cassandra rolls her eyes and lets out a disgusted noise- a trademark reaction of hers.

"Sometimes I wonder what the Inquisitor was thinking when she recruited that elf," she grumbles, aiming a precision strike on the dummy's torso.

"She is a special one, isn't she?" I chuckle, stabbing the dummy right through the abdominal region. I yank the sword out and turn to face Cassandra, my breathing quick and shallow.

"Care for a duel, Seeker?" I ask with a lopsided grin.

She looks at me, her almond-shaped eyes slightly widening in surprise.

"No shields?" she asks.

"Pretend we lost them in the confusion of the battlefield," I shrug.

"I like the way you think, Commander," she smiles maliciously and turns to face me, instantly stepping into an offensive stance.

My grin widens as we firmly hold one another's gaze and slowly start to circle each other. I notice from the corner of my eye that a small crowd has started to gather around us.

"We've attracted a following," Cassandra voices my thoughts. I cannot tell whether she is annoyed or a little embarrassed at the scrutiny.

Both, possibly.

"Ignore them," I say, lunging at her to force her focus. She nimbly dodges my attack, a small smirk creeping across her lips.

"It's a pity the Inquisitor isn't here to witness this," she comments slyly, her eyes flitting towards my sword arm.

I ignore her comment and keep my focus, easily ducking under a swing and emerging behind her. She turns around in a flash, her hawk-like gaze fixed on my face.

"Impressive move, Commander," she remarks appreciatively.

"I'd take it easy on Curly if I were you, Seeker," Varric calls out from the little crowd. "The Inquisitor wouldn't be too happy if she returned from Redcliffe to find you've ruined her precious Commander's pretty face."

"Urgh," Cassandra scowls in Varric's direction.

"Keep talking, Varric," I call out without breaking eye contact with Cassandra. "It's the one thing you _can_ do, anyway."

"Oh, you wound me, Curly," Varric snickers. "Didn't know you had it in you!"

Evidently tired of the odd jab or swing, Cassandra unleashes a quick succession of attacks, instantly quickening the duel's pace. I block every single one of them, my pulse quickening as the tempo continues to heighten.

"Oh, come _on_!" I hear Iron Bull yell out in exasperation. "Show us a _real_ fight! I've seen qunari children do better than this shit!"

"I do believe they are having a friendly duel, Bull dear," Vivienne remarks calmly.

"Yes, ma'am," Bull responds obediently.

I will forever scratch my head at the power the First Enchanter seems to command over that qunari boulder.

The sound of clanking metal reverberates throughout the grounds as Cassandra and I continue our sparring, neither of us showing the slightest sign of slowing down.

The adrenaline pumping through my veins, I feel invigorated by the exercise. Combat was always my strong point. It honestly seems as though we could keep going for hours.

Until Cassandra slips in the mud and accidentally cuts open the skin on my left forearm, that is.

"Commander!" she gasps, throwing her sword to the mud when I let out a pained grunt. Red immediately starts pouring from the wound, prompting me to clasp my right hand around it to suppress the flow.

"Here," Cassandra quickly rips a piece off from her undershirt, revealing her taut stomach, expertly wrapping the cloth tightly around the wound. "Urgh, where is that Solas when you need him?" she growls angrily, looking around the crowd surrounding us.

"Somebody get the healer!" Varric calls out to the people closest to the stairs leading down to the surgeon's camp.

"That won't be necessary, my dear," Vivienne calmly tells the dwarf as she steps out from the crowd and makes her way towards me. "Cassandra, darling, kindly step aside as I examine the Commander's wound."

Cassandra promptly does as she is told and gives the Enchanter the space she requires. I instantly feel my body tense as her slender, cold hand raises my forearm closer to her eyes and unwraps the makeshift bandage Cassandra had just wrapped around it.

I have never been healed by a mage.

I had never allowed it.

And, truth be told, I am not certain I am prepared to allow it now.

"I'm fine, First Enchanter, there's no need to-"

"Hush, dear," she murmurs as she carefully examines the wound. Then, without warning, I feel a cool energy radiate through my arm, almost as though a cool breeze managed to blow its way into my veins. I close my eyes and almost sigh at the soothing sensation. I feel my muscles slightly relaxing, though I am still filled with unease at being handled by a mage.

"There," Vivienne says, clearly pleased with herself. "All done. Doesn't that feel better, dear?"

I look down to see the wound completely healed, save for the faint trace of a pale scar across my skin.

_Maker's breath_.

"It—it does," I reply. "Thank you, First Enchanter."

"You're welcome, darling," she smiles and retreats.

"Forgive me, Commander," Cassandra says, quickly retaking her place by my side. "I lost my footing and I had no-"

"It's all right, Cassandra," I chuckle at her worried expression. It is quite a rare one to witness on the fearless Seeker's face."I think I will survive."

"Be grateful it wasn't your face, Curly," Varric sneers.

"Do you _ever_ stop joking around?" I ask him incredulously, shielding my eyes against the glaring sun.

"Do you ever stop being so serious?" he retorts with raised eyebrows.

I open my mouth to respond, but decide against it.

"Don't you have something useful to do with your time, Varric?" Cassandra venomously asks the dwarf through gritted teeth.

Varric raises an eyebrow at her steely tone.

"Still angry at the Hawke incident, are we, Seeker?" he asks, crossing his arms against his chest.

"I'm not a child, Varric!" she snarls. "I had every right to be angry."

"All right, all right," he says, raising his arms up in defeat as he slowly begins to retreat. "I'll go!"

He turns to leave, but stops after a few steps and turns his head around towards me.

"Oh, and you might want to have a quick bath, Curly," he says smugly. "I think I just heard her Inquisitorialness and Sparkler bickering down by the gates. Kinda hard to miss Sparkler's voice."

* * *

><p>"Rylen's men will monitor the situation."<p>

"Yes, Ser. We'll begin preparations at once."

I take a report from one of my officers and quickly scan it under the candlelight in my darkening office.

"In the meantime, we'll send soldiers to-"

Something flashes by my office door and catches my eye. I turn my gaze to the area, my heart jumping when I notice that the Inquisitor is leaning against the brick wall, a pendant hanging from her neck catching the candlelight.

"To—assist with the relief effort," I finish, a small smile pulling at my lips when our eyes meet. I can't look away, not even when I end the meeting prematurely and dismiss my officers for the evening.

I follow them to the door and shut it behind them. My instincts tell me to lock it, so I do.

"You're back," I smile, turning to face her. I realise that the gleaming pendant I noticed earlier is the lucky charm (or coin, to be exact) I had gifted her when I took her to my favourite childhood haunt back in Ferelden.

"Do you like it?" she asks, following my gaze and looking down at the charm. "I came across the chain in a shop in Redcliffe. Dorian encouraged me to get it."

My smile widens, and I step closer to her, taking both her hands in mine and bringing them to my lips.

"I love it," I murmur, gazing at her as I cover her hands in light kisses. She blushes and smiles back, her hair a little damp from the rain.

"How was Redcliffe?" I ask her softly, noticing that her hair has started to curl into loose ringlets in its damp state. "Did Dorian manage to find that retainer?"

"Oh, it wasn't a retainer," she says, moving towards my desk and jumping up to sit on it. I follow her, my smile seemingly plastered onto my face as I watch her. "It was his father all along. He only claimed to send a retainer in his letter to ensure Dorian would go. It was quite touching, really."

"So all is well between them? They've managed to patch things up?" I ask, leaning against the desk beside her.

"As much as possible," she nods. "It takes time to heal old wounds. But I'm glad that he agreed to go. He's better now. Cole told me. Less of a weight on his shoulders."

I smile warmly at her, sneakily moving my hand close to hers on the edge of the desk. She looks down when she feels my glove against her skin, observing our hands close together for a few silent moments, her mind clearly cast else where.

"What's wrong?" I ask, moving my left arm to stroke her face. I wince slightly, the wounded area still a little sore despite Vivienne's excellent healing work this morning.

"What's wrong with your arm?" she asks, looking at it and ignoring my question.

"Haven't you heard?" I ask dryly. "Cassandra and I decided to have an impromptu duel this morning. She slipped in the mud and uhh... well... sliced open my forearm in the process. It was very dramatic, actually. Bull roared out in delight at the sight of blood oozing out of my arm."

"_What_?" her eyes widen in shock. "Are you all right? Show me the wound! Did you require stitches?"

"I'm _fine_," I laugh, taking my left glove off and rolling up my sleeve. "It's just a little sore, that's all. See?"

She carefully takes my forearm in both her hands and scans the scar with hawk-like precision. Being a mage as well, I imagine she is assessing Vivienne's handiwork. She lightly traces the scar with her index finger, sending a pronounced shiver down my spine.

"I'm sorry," she quickly says, taking her finger away from my skin.

"No," I protest softly. "That didn't hurt. Quite the contrary."

She blinks, caught a little off-guard, I suppose. I cradle the side of her face with my left palm, naked and bare against her skin for the first time. I swallow, the new touch sending a nervous jolt through me.

She closes her eyes and sighs into my hand, raising her own and placing it over mine, gently pressing it closer to her cheek.

"You should take your gloves off more often," she smiles, bringing my hand closer to her lips and kissing my palm lightly.

I stare at her, speechless, with a dazed expression on my face.

_Maker_.

I... I hadn't the slightest idea...

I didn't know it was possible to care for someone like _this_.

I...I would lay down my life for her.

Maker knows I would.

In an _instant_.

But...

"Something the matter?"

I look at her, trying to find the right words to say to avoid sounding like a blithering idiot. She must have seen the doubt I am battling in my expression, because she slowly lets my hand slide away from her and sits up attentively.

I stand up straight and move to the bookshelf in an attempt to busy myself while I search for the words.

"This war won't last forever," I manage to say, scanning the titles on the bookshelf without really seeing them. "When it started, I... I hadn't considered much beyond our survival."

I turn around and face her again.

"But, things are different now," I say.

She hops off from the desk and approaches me by the bookshelf.

"What do you mean?" she asks gently.

I take a deep breath to steady myself, my nerves threatening to get the better of me.

"I...I find myself wondering what will happen after...when this is over, I..." I bring my hand up—the right, gloved one—and caress the side of her face."I won't want to move on," I murmur softly. "Not from _you_."

I smile down at her, momentarily losing myself in her eyes, mesmerized by the vision looking back at me.

But what if _she_ wants to move on? What if this is a mere diversion, destined to end once this is all over?

I look away from her, voicing my doubts in a stammer.

"But I—I don't know what you—that is, _if _you—uhh..."

I walk to my desk and give my back to her, mindlessly shuffling through some parchment in a pathetic attempt to busy myself while she responds.

"Cullen," I hear her voice from close behind me. She brings her arm to the desk and moves my hands away from the parchment, slipping into the space between me and the desk and leaning her back against it, her body inches away from mine. "Do you need to ask?"

I blink at her, disbelief and joy flooding me simultaneously.

"I suppose not," I manage to whisper, stepping closer to her. "I want-"

We gasp in unison when she accidentally knocks over a wine bottle from the desk, the glass smashing onto the stone floor.

I look at the floor and back at her, my mind resolute.

I feel the smallest smirk start to form on my lips, and in one swift move, I slide my arm across my desk, shoving everything else on it onto the floor- parchment, reports, glass and all.

Right now, none of that matters.

There is only her, leaning against my desk, waiting for me to make my move.

I turn back to her, my intentions clear in my eyes. She smiles seductively, never tearing her gaze away from mine as I place my hands on her waist, gently guiding her further onto the desk, until she is flat on her back, her breath already quickening.

I move over her, very lightly lowering myself onto her, and bury my face into her neck, kissing it softly. She sighs, her breath hitching as I slowly move up with my lips, lingering on her jaw before finally meeting her lips. She wraps her legs around my waist and presses me against her, arching her back against my hips.

I feel her fingers start to remove the fur on my shoulders. It slides off me, and she impatiently moves on to my armour.

I snicker against her lips when I feel her struggle to unclasp it, so I reach back and help her, letting it fall to the ground with a loud thud. I get up onto my knees, smiling down at her as I quickly pull off the rest of my clothing and armour. For a moment, she stares up at me, still flat on her back, her wide eyes roaming over my nude arms and torso. She quickly sits up and unfastens my breeches, pulling them down to my knees. I kick off my boots and pull my breeches down the rest of the way, nearly losing my balance as I attempt to yank them past my ankles. She giggles, and it is akin to the most heavenly music in my ears. I hastily start to unbutton her blouse, my fingers clumsy against the delicate buttons. She helps me, throwing the blouse to the floor without looking away from me.

I shamelessly marvel at her physique, my pulse doubling as my eyes take in the smooth skin over her collarbones, leading down to her breasts, still held in her supportive undergarment. I cradle her face and kiss her urgently, light moans involuntarily escaping through my lips as she slides her hands across my chest. Without breaking the kiss, I blindly maneuver my fingers to her back, unfastening her undergarment's clasp. I gasp when I feel her fingers slide into the waistband of my briefs, and I help her slide them down before I do the same to her.

I gently lower her back onto the desk, my heart hammering against my ribs as I position myself over her.

"Maker's breath, you're beautiful," I whisper breathlessly. She smiles, her flushed cheeks deepening even further in colour. I lean down and kiss her breasts, teasing her nipples with my tongue. She twitches beneath me as I brush against her groin, her breath rapid and shallow against my ears as she kisses my head.

It is not long before the desk is creaking loudly beneath us as we move in unison, her back arching in time to my slow and gentle thrusts.

I have no words to describe how... _perfect_ it all is. I am _delirious_ with ecstasy, barely able to moan her name as the intense pleasure of her warmth consumes me.

I never want it to stop.

"_Cullen_," she whispers my name breathlessly, her eyes barely open. "Go faster, Cullen."

I obey her instantly, burying my face against her neck as I move faster inside her, my body trembling. I hear her breathe and moan into my ear, and I kiss her neck, my tongue caressing her skin, eliciting even louder moans from her lips.

"_Maker_," she gasps, and I feel her tighten around me.

She yells out my name, her fingernails digging into my back, and I let out a loud, carnal moan, momentarily blinded by the overwhelming pleasure that racks through my body.

_Maker's breath._

I slump over her, our skin glistening and hot, our chests rapidly rising and falling in unison as we attempt to catch our breath.

"That was..." she pants into my ear, her fingers snaking through my hair.

"_Magnificent_," I finish for her, my nose buried in the crook of her neck. Her scent alone is enough to dizzy my thoughts.

She places her hands on either side of my head, prompting me to lift my head up and look at her. She smiles, her hair damp and matted across forehead, and kisses me lazily.

We part lips and I rest my forehead against hers, my breathing slower and steadier.

"This is quite the desk, isn't it?" she grins. "Quite... _sturdy_."

I chuckle, brushing her damp hair away from her eyes.

"The bed is even _better_," I whisper into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Oh?" she smiles and strokes my hair. "Why don't you show me just how much _better_ it is, hmm?"

I feel the usual lopsided grin spread across my lips.

"_Gladly_," I smirk before covering her mouth with my own.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> writing smut has never been my strong point, so my apologies in advance if the writing was too safe or non-descriptive. i can be such a prude sometimes. i just chicken out when i consider putting in more detail!


	14. A Declaration

**NSFW** to begin with. Those two can't seem to keep their hands off each other now that they've finally consummated their relationship. oh god. did i really just say 'consummated?' i'm beginning to sound like i'm from the medieval era myself!

* * *

><p>Are you aware of that strange in-between place where you are still partially asleep, but also awake at the same time?<p>

When a beautiful memory plays in your head and brings a warmth to your heart and a smile to your lips, but you are terrified of waking up and learning that it was nothing but a dream? A cruel trick played by a desperate mind?

That is precisely my current state.

I am absolutely _terrified_ of opening my eyes and finding myself alone in my bed.

I am _terrified_ of going downstairs and finding everything as it was on my desk; no scattered papers and broken glass strewn across the floor.

No articles of female clothing leaving a trail from my desk and up to my quarters.

No Evelyn Trevelyan sleeping right beside me.

Even with my eyes closed, I can tell that it is barely dawn. The painful glare of the morning sun is not yet uncomfortable against my eyelids.

I feel a very light, intermittent breeze blow against my face.

Except, it is far too warm and brief to be a breeze.

I open my eyes, a wide grin spreading across my face when I see Evelyn's face a few inches away from mine, her expression blissfully peaceful as she continues her deep slumber.

I am torn between carefully taking her in my arms, risking waking her up in the process, or just lying still beside her until she awakens. I decide on the latter, valuing her rest over my selfish and seemingly relentless need for physical contact, but I do carefully and very gently brush the hair away from her eyes.

I see my lucky charm nestled between her breasts, and the sight seems beautifully bizarre to me.

The lucky charm given to me by my brother before I left for Templar training when I was thirteen... the charm that I clasped in my palm before taking my Templar vows when I was eighteen. The charm that I held in both hands as I prayed and resisted possession with all my might when Uldred took over the Ferelden Circle...

That very charm is now hanging around the neck of a woman many consider to be our saviour, holy or otherwise.

A woman who has bewitched me, mind, body and soul.

And a _mage_, of all the possibilities.

I have come a long way since my broken days.

My love for her is more than enough proof of that.

There was a time when I am not certain I would have cared for her. _That_ was the depth of my anger and bitterness towards magic and all things related.

The very _thought_ of that sickens me.

I was not plagued by nightmares last night.

Although I suspect that has more to do with the fact that I _barely_ got any sleep last night.

I trust you can imagine why.

Evelyn stirs in her sleep, unintentionally bringing her arm to rest against my waist.

Unable to resist any longer, I slowly move my head closer and kiss her very lightly on her partially open lips. Her eyes flutter at the touch, and a smile creeps across her lips when she sees me.

"Good morning," she mumbles hoarsely.

_'Good_' wouldn't even _begin_ to describe how glorious this morning is.

"Good morning," I reply softly, placing my hand over her cheek. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, it's fine," she smiles sleepily, nudging closer to me. I take her in my arms and kiss the top of her head, burying my face in her tangled hair.

"Slept well?" I ask her, my voice muffled as I breathe in her scent.

She kisses my chest softly before responding.

"If sleeping for a few hours after making love to a handsome Commander several times throughout the night is considered 'sleeping well', then yes, yes I have," she grins.

I grin back and trail my fingers along her back. Her head resting on my chest, she traces shapes across my chest hair, circling her fingers around it.

"My apologies for exhausting you, my lady," I respond wryly.

"Oh, don't apologise," she smirks. "I now expect this of you every night, Commander. Inquisitor's orders."

I let out a loud, chesty laugh. One of those genuine laughs that people can never seem to accurately fake.

I haven't laughed like this in a long time.

In over ten years, in fact.

"Is that so?" I smile, running my fingers through her hair.

And of course, my fingers manage to entangle themselves in it.

"Ouch!" she laughs.

Because it is _such_ a typical thing for me to do.

"Sorry!" I exclaim, pulling my fingers away as gently and carefully as possible.

"_I'm_ the one who should be apologising for the appalling state of my hair," she grimaces as she assesses it with her hands.

I place my fingers beneath her chin and tilt her face up to look at me.

"You are _perfect_," I whisper.

Red paints her cheeks as she smiles and sits up, lightly resting her forehead against mine.

"I..." I take a deep breath, overwhelmed by emotion. "I have never felt _anything_ like this."

"I love you," she says. "You know that, right?"

I pause, allowing the effect of those majestic three words to wash over me.

"I love you too," I reply, my voice raw with emotion. I kiss her, and I unintentionally repeat the mistake of tangling my fingers in her hair again.

In one very swift and nimble movement, she swings one leg over my hips and straddles me without interrupting the kiss.

I hear a knock on my office door downstairs, but I completely disregard it.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" she whispers breathlessly.

"No," I mumble and place my hand on the back of her head, gently bringing her lips back to mine.

We take the time to explore each other this time. We were impatient, last night. And perhaps a little bit unsure. I know I certainly was.

But this morning, I am determined to outdo myself.

I move down from her lips to her breasts, where I linger because she makes it _very_ evident to me that she enjoys it. Feeling considerably more confident in my abilities after our numerous love-making sessions the night prior, I move my lips back to her mouth and place my hands on either side of her waist. I roll over her, pinning her down to the bed and moving back down to her neck, her breasts, her stomach...

Her breathing hitches when she realises where my kisses are leading, and she rests her head on my pillow, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

I keep my eyes fixed on her when my mouth stops between her legs. She clutches at the bed sheets beneath her, her entire body trembling as I begin to pleasure her.

She does not last long, and I hold her down as she starts to twitch uncontrollably under my mouth, gradually slowing my tongue down but not stopping until she relaxes.

"Maker's _breath_," she exclaims weakly, barely able to catch her breath. "Where did you learn to do _that_?"

"On you, evidently," I grin crookedly, feeling exceptionally pleased with myself. "You were always good at giving directions."

She laughs as I crawl back up to her, her face flushed. She rolls us over again, positioning herself over me. I sit up, resting my back against the headboard, preferring the intimacy of this position.

We make love again, slowly and gently to start off, before picking up the pace, just the way she prefers it.

I have learned a number of things about her preferences in these last few hours, in fact.

Her sensitive spots.

Her favourite positions.

How she loves to hold my face and look me directly in the eye when she is _close_.

That last one is my personal favourite.

That, and the way she whispers and moans my name repeatedly into my ear, urging me to keep going.

Maker, the _things_ her voice does to me...

Not that you needed to know that.

But I suppose it is far too late to spare the details now, isn't it?

* * *

><p>"Maker's breath."<p>

It is later in the evening, and I am sitting behind my desk, staring at an exceptionally expensive-looking tailored Orlesian coat held up by one of the couriers. It is a deep, royal blue, made entirely of velvet, and bejeweled all along the cuffs, collar and buttons.

"And did Ambassador Montilyet state _why_ she is offering me this... this..."

"Coat?" the courier finishes helpfully.

"Quite," I say, continuing my staring contest with the adorned article of clothing.

"She wanted you to have something comfortable to slip into," the courier explains. "She stated that you cannot possibly be in your armour _all_ the time."

I roll my eyes and scoff, standing up and walking around my desk towards the courier.

"I've practically been in armour for the last fifteen years, if not longer," I reply dryly as I examine the coat in closer detail. "And whenever I wasn't in it, I certainly never donned anything so..." I struggle to find the right word to describe this piece of extravagance.

"Pompous?" the courier offers.

"Yes," I chuckle down at the witty dwarf. "Pompous indeed! This is more akin to Dorian's extravagant taste, if you ask me."

"Shall I return it to her?"

"No," I sigh. "That wouldn't be right. She did send it to me as a gift, after all. It wouldn't do to return it."

"As you wish, Commander," the courier bows and leaves.

I am left alone with the coat, scratching my head as I appraise it with wary eyes, as though it is a foreign creature that I had never laid eyes on before.

Where on earth am I expected to wear _that_?

An hour later, I voice my bewilderment to Evelyn at the dinner table.

"Maybe it's for the upcoming ball at Halamshiral?" she suggests as she cuts her ham.

"No, I've seen those at the tailor's a few days ago," I reply. "They're not all that bad, actually."

"Nothing looks bad on _you_, Commander," she grins. "You've managed to make a lion's _mane_ look marvelous around your neck. Few could pull it off at all, let alone as well as you do."

I laugh at her sardonicism, feeling myself blush despite the evident humour behind her compliment.

"I want to see it," she says excitedly. "Are you free after dinner?"

"For you, I will always make time," I tell her in a voice low enough to be heard by her ears only. She smiles and bats her eyelashes, her eyes moving back to her plate again.

For the first time in weeks, I have not only managed to completely wolf down my food at every meal today, I have also managed to have second helpings.

And apparently, according to Varric, I have a new "spring" in my step.

"I like it," he told me this afternoon. "It's strange as hell, but I like it."

"Look at him, all smiling and fuzzy," I overhear Sera tell Dorian across the dining table. "_Really_ likes having a woman on top of him, that one, doesn't he?"

"So you _do_ have something in common with him after all!" Dorian exclaims happily.

"Shut up!" she jabs him playfully in the ribs.

I purse my lips, trying to suppress a laugh.

They all make a very valid and undeniable point.

Finally, after years of darkness, I can truly say that I am happy, despite a few lingering personal demons and the troubles plaguing Thedas.

And I owe it all to the woman seated beside me, who is focused on picking out all the eggplant from her dish.

"I hate eggplants," she wrinkles her nose in disgust when she notices me smiling at her.

"So I noticed," I chuckle.

After dinner, we walk to my office, arm in arm, to show her my new gift.

"That knock on the door this morning?" I tell her as I open the door and let her through.

"Hmm?" she asks, playing with an apple in her hand.

"That was the courier."

"Wasn't it a bit early for a delivery?" she asks, taking a loud bite of her apple and hopping onto my desk.

"I am usually well awake by that time," I grin sheepishly at her, a thrill passing through me when I see her sitting in the exact same spot she chose the previous evening. "This morning was... the exception."

She blushes and looks away, her lashes fluttering.

"So, where is this magnificent coat that has you terrified, then?" she asks, her eyes scanning my office.

"Right here," I say, striding over to my chair and picking it up. I hold it in both hands to show her clearly.

"It's _beautiful_," she says in awe, her eyes widening as she takes it all in. "Try it on!"

Reluctantly, I shrug out of my fur and armour and comply with her request.

Surprisingly, it is a perfect fit.

Or perhaps _not_ so surprisingly. We do have a spymaster in our midst, after all.

"Maker's breath, Cullen," Evelyn says, her expression stunned. "You look... _Maker_. You look _incredible_."

"I do?" I ask uncertainly, looking down at the coat and stretching out my arms before my eyes to survey the sleeves.

"Are you _blind_, Commander?" she asks with ridicule. "Do you have a full-length mirror about? In your quarters, perhaps?"

"No," I shake my head.

"Well that settles it, doesn't it?" she laughs a little before shaking her head in disbelief. "You have no idea, do you?" she asks with wonder.

"No idea about what?" I ask with a raised brow.

She sets her half-eaten apple on my desk and approaches me, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. She smiles at my confusion, shaking her head again as she cups my face in her hands.

"No idea how ridiculously _handsome_ you are," she responds.

I swallow, feeling at an utter loss of words to say as I gaze into her eyes, dark in the candlelight. She closes her eyes, and I do the same, and we lean in closer, our lips-

"Commander?" I hear a soldier's muffled voice call out as he knocks thrice against my door.

I sigh and look at her apologetically before striding to the door and opening it.

"Yes, James?" I ask. I notice the young man's eyebrows rise so high into his forehead, they are in danger of permanently disappearing.

I must admit it takes me a moment to realise what elicited such a reaction.

"Do _not_ ask," I warn him, and he shakes his head, though he fails to suppress the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes quickly flit away from my coat and back to my face.

"Seeker Cassandra is requesting you and the Inquisitor to meet her and the rest of the advisors in the war room, Commander," he informs me.

"Tell her we will be there shortly," I nod and close the door.

"More work?" Evelyn smiles from behind the desk.

"It appears so," I sigh, shrugging out of the coat and putting on my familiar garb.

"We don't want to keep Cassandra waiting, then," she says. She puts her apple down and helps me put my armour back on.

"How partial are you to your bed, Commander?" she suddenly asks me.

_What an odd question_.

"Err... not particularly," I respond hesitantly.

_Why? Was it uncomfortable last night?_

"Good," she pats me on the back to signal that I am good to go. I turn around and find her smiling.

"That means you wouldn't terribly mind sleeping in my quarters tonight, would you?" she asks.

I grin and take her in my arms, giving her a quick, tender kiss before we depart.

"No," I smile, my lips still close enough to brush against hers. "Not at all."

* * *

><p><strong>Note<strong>: Just wanted to say that I haven't completely forgone cullen's nightmare that takes place the morning after. i just didn't want to include it in the same sequence. you know... to keep this story from being predictable. nothing ruins a story like predictability, right? i'll throw it in somewhere because i think it's a very vital part of his turmoil. just not when my readers are expecting it ;)


	15. The Game

I took the opportunity to focus on the companions a bit more in this chapter, rather than completely centering it around the romance like the rest of the story. I just reaallllyy adore the various characters and relationships that form in-game, so I thought I'd shine a little light on them for a little while. Hope you enjoy!

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><p><em>Maker's breath<em>.

Why won't this jacket just _let_ a little?

Have I put on weight since the tailor took my measurements?

I _have_ been eating a lot better than I was a few weeks ago...

That must be it.

I fidget around in the red and gold military jacket that we, as members of the Inquisition, have been assigned to wear to Empress Celene's ball in Halamshiral. Before leaving my office to make my way to the awaiting carriages, I glance at my reflection in my shaving mirror, making sure that my unruly curls are presentable.

Satisfied with what I see, I proceed to lock my office door behind me and swiftly make my way to the gates, the bright morning sun strongly reflecting against my freshly polished boots.

It feels strange, moving around in such light attire.

It is certainly easy to forget, or, should I say grow accustomed to, the burden of walking around in heavy armour all day. This is certainly a refreshing change.

As I descend the last few steps leading to the gates, I see that only Blackwall, Varric and Solas are ready and waiting by the carriages.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Curly," Varric straightens up and pushes off from one of the carriages that he was leaning against.

"Slow lot, aren't they?" Blackwall asks gruffly.

"I believe Dorian was rummaging around for some hair wax as I departed the rotunda," Solas replies with a small smile.

"'Course he was," Varric sneers.

I smile and turn around, my eyes squinting under the glaring sun as I wait for a sign of her.

Finally, I see a figure—slender and feminine- calmly descending the staircase leading down from the fortress. My eyes light up and my posture perks as I wait for her to approach us.

"Ah, and the Seeker joins us," Solas remarks.

_Seeker?_

I squint my eyes, cursing the sun rays disrupting my vision, and feel my shoulders slightly slump when I see that it is, in fact, Cassandra walking towards us.

Huh.

I have always heard that elves enjoy better eyesight than humans.

I suppose it is true.

Either that, or I am already losing my vision at barely thirty years of age, and I am quite certain it isn't the latter.

"Looking good, Seeker," Varric teases when Cassandra arrives. She rolls her eyes in response, but I can see a small smile tug at the corner of her lips.

"Where are the rest?" I ask nonchalantly.

"The Inquisitor is on her way," Cassandra responds, deciphering the true meaning behind my question with her usual acuteness."She had to help Sera find her boots." She shakes her head, exasperation clear in her stern expression.

We both jump and take a step back when Cole suddenly materialises before us, nearly unrecognisable without his hat.

"Cole!" Cassandra exclaims angrily. "How many times have I told you to stop doing that?"

"I'm sorry," he apologises sincerely, his pale, blond hair falling over his eyes as he looks down at his feet.

"Hey, take it easy on the kid, Seeker," Varric chides, quickly walking towards Cole and placing a gentle hand on the boy's back. He steers him away from Cassandra towards where Solas stood.

Cassandra snarls something in response, but my attention is now completely diverted to the foot of the staircase, smiling when I see Evelyn and Sera hastily striding towards us, Sera laughing manically at what must be one of her incomprehensible jokes.

"Sorry we're late," Evelyn apologises to us collectively, though her eyes are solely directed at me. "Sera misplaced one of her boots."

"Not on purpose!" the elf exclaims indignantly.

I smile at the Inquisitor, my ears cancelling out any other sound as my attention solely focuses on her.

"You look beautiful," I murmur, my eyes gazing at her elegantly coiffed hair and the rouge on her cheeks and lips.

Red suits her _perfectly_.

She smiles shyly, her eyes widening as they sweep over me.

"And you look _incredible_," she replies. "Formal wear should definitely be a significant part of your wardrobe, Commander."

I grin and resist a very strong urge to kiss her; the two of us agreed that, when it came to business, we would keep matters between us as professional as possible.

"So, who else are we missing?" she asks, her eyes sweeping over the group.

"Dorian and Iron Bull are-"

"We're here!" Dorian calls out, a little out of breath as he and the Iron Bull practically run down the stairs. "Sorry for the delay. It took us _ages_ to get that stupid jacket through Bull's arms! What tailor did you use? Was he Orlesian?"

"Have you seen the First Enchanter and Leliana and Josephine?" Cassandra asks, ignoring Dorian's question.

"Right behind us," Bull responds, pointing a thumb back at the staircase. Surely enough, I see Leliana and Josephine rushing towards us, followed by a very calm and unnervingly slow Vivienne.

"You're late," Cassandra tells them accusingly when they finally halt before us.

"It is not even nine, my dear," Vivienne responds coolly. "The carriages are not scheduled to leave before nine thirty, if I remember correctly."

Frankly, I do not understand why practically the _entire_ Inquisition had to be brought along to this affair, but Josephine thought it would be best. In case the evening did not play out as planned.

"Is that everyone, then?" Evelyn calls out authoritatively. I cannot help but smile as I watch her carry out a headcount. "All right! Everyone into the carriages!"

Evelyn and I, who will be sharing a carriage with Cassandra, Cole, Varric and Solas, wait until the rest of the companions have all boarded their respective carriages. When it is Evelyn's turn to board, I take her hand and help her up the two steps leading to the interior, even though she did not require the assistance.

I climb in after her and shut the door behind me, a soldier knocking on the carriage's exterior to signal to the driver that we are ready to depart, before mounting his horse to accompany us as a guard.

I take the empty space between Evelyn and a window, smiling at her when our eyes meet. I look down to see her gloved hand resting on her lap, and my hand moves to take it in mine before I stop myself and remember our 'professionalism' rule.

What I would not give to privately share a carriage with her again.

Those precious hours spent with her during the journey to Ferelden and back will forever be one of the fondest memories of my life.

As the carriage driver gently urges his horses to move, the carriage jolts forward, sending the Inquisitor, who was preoccupied with quizzing Solas about his elaborate headdress, flying forward towards Cassandra. Cassandra holds her arms up to catch her, but I beat her to the chase, gently yet firmly grabbing Evelyn around the waist and pulling her back towards me.

"Thank you," she smiles at me, her gaze lingering.

I swallow back butterflies that still flutter within me whenever she beholds me and I smile back, moving my right hand away from her waist, but leaving the left wrapped protectively around her shoulders in case the carriage decides to jolt again at any time during our journey.

And because it is an excellent excuse for me to hold her.

My eyes flit over to the others. Cassandra is busy prodding Solas about the breach and Corypheus, while Varric has pulled out a deck of Wicked Grace cards (_of course_ he brought those along) and is patiently teaching Cole the basics of the game.

"Okay, Kid, try it again like we practiced," Varric tells him.

"Two pairs beats one pair. Four of a kind beats two pairs. She slips the ace of dragons into a thigh-high boot, calls to the barman for another round. Blondie stares at the table, angry, always angry."

Every eye turns to stare at Cole, dumbfounded at the sudden turn his speech has taken.

"Focus, Kid," Varric tells him with a smile. "You can't beat four of a kind with bad memories."

"So many tricks and turns, nothing seems as it should be!"

"If you think _this_ is deceptive, wait till you get to the ball," Varric chuckles darkly as he rearranges his deck of cards.

"In fact, Cole's comment is not very far off from what we will surely encounter at Halamshiral," Solas says. "It _is_, after all, called The Game for a reason."

"Urgh," Cassandra grumbles. "This is precisely why I disapprove of politicians taking over the throne. All that manipulation and forced smiles behind those ridiculous masks. What we need is a straightforward ruler who gets things done instead of making nice at parties and writing endless letters."

"I agree," I nod at Cassandra. "Gaspard's claim to the throne is fair. Orlais needs someone capable of responding to the crisis at hand. A military-minded leader seems the best option."

Evelyn looks up at me, surprised.

"But, I thought the sole point of this mission is to save the Empress from getting assassinated," she says with confusion.

"The sole point of this mission is to save Orlais from Corypheus, Inquisitor," Cassandra tells her.

Evelyn sits up, her expression indignant. I gently slide my arm away from her shoulder to give her space.

"I'm not just going to let the Empress die," she says defiantly.

"Then we save her," I tell her, looking pointedly at Cassandra. "We did not hand over the Inquisition's leadership to you for nothing, Inquisitor."

She sighs and looks up at me.

"It's not about leadership and having my orders followed, Cullen," she says. "I am simply not going to allow the Empress to die. She has done nothing to deserve that."

"Understood, Inquisitor," I nod.

"As you wish, my lady," Cassandra says.

"Weight of the world upon your shoulders, the hurt, the _hope_, all resting heavily on _you_," Cole blurts out, his eyes regarding the Inquisitor sadly. "It must be very hard. I... I hope I help."

Evelyn smiles warmly at him and reaches over to squeeze his hand.

"You _do_ help, Cole," she tells him warmly. "Thank you."

She leans back into her seat, thrilling me when she discreetly slips her hand into mine. She smiles up at me, and I want _so badly_ to lean in closer and gently kiss her forehead.

"Anyone else up for a meal at the next tavern on the road?" Varric asks.

"We do not have time for stops, Varric," Cassandra scolds him.

"Really?" Varric smirks. "Is that why I just heard your stomach rumbling, Seeker?"

Cassandra's eyes widen in embarrassment.

"It did _not_!" she exclaims indignantly.

Everyone, including Cole, lets out a chuckle, though I suspect Cole is only reacting off the cheer that now fills the carriage. I look down at Evelyn, my smile widening when I see the happiness reflected genuinely in her eyes.

"I do believe we are ahead of schedule, Cassandra," Solas tells her in his usual gentle manner.

The Seeker squints her eyes as she contemplates, before finally giving in.

"Fine," she agrees curtly. "But we will have to make it quick."

"Cassandra?" Cole asks politely after a brief silence.

"Yes, Cole?"

"Do you ever take off your armour and talk to it?"

He asks her this as though it is the most usual and commonplace question to ask.

I grin at the ridicule I see on the Seeker's face.

"No," she replies.

Cole looks a little disappointed at her response.

"You should," he tells her. "It might say something nice."

After a quick stop at the next Orlesian tavern and a few more hours of travel, we finally arrive in Halamshiral, the Winter Palace looming into sight from a great distance.

I cannot help but stare at the grand construct, my eyes taking in every detail. I notice, however, that I am the only one who seems to be impressed by the palace, which should not come as a surprise, really, seeing as I am surrounded by nobility in this carriage.

Apart from Cole and Solas, of course.

Although, the way Solas carries himself... he could almost pass for a noble himself.

The carriage comes to a smooth halt by the palace gates, which are flanked by masked guards and flung open for the night. I open the carriage door and step down, extending my hand out for my dear Inquisitor to take. She smiles and places her hand in mine, and I cannot help but stare at her beauty as she emerges from the carriage and steps into the moonlit night.

"All right," Varric rubs his hands together as he takes in the scene before him. "_Showtime_."

"What's wrong with their faces?" Cole asks, his eyes warily surveying the masked nobles by the fountain.

"There you are!"

We see Josephine rushing to meet us, her expression frantic. "What took you so long? We were beginning to worry!"

"_Someone_ decided to stop for a meal," Cassandra says, her eyes glowering at Varric accusingly.

"It was a majority vote!" Varric exclaims innocently.

"What matters is that you are here now," Josephine says, her eyes focused on the Inquisitor. "Duke Gaspard is awaiting your arrival, Your Worship. We should not keep him waiting any longer."

Evelyn nods and starts to follow the rest of our group into the courtyard, but I gently take her wrist and stop her. She turns around to face me, a quizzical expression on her face.

"Be careful, my darling," I whisper to her gravely.

She smiles and caresses my face with a gloved hand.

"I will," she promises.

"Safe and solid, protecting and proud. He feels like quiet, stronger when you hold him."

We both turn to see Cole watching us, his expression... _warm_.

"What...How did you-" I stammer, staring at the young man in disbelief.

In a simple sentence, he has managed to describe how she makes me feel _perfectly_.

"Cole?" I hear Solas call out. And just like that, he turns away, leaving me with my jaw hanging ajar.

I rub my neck awkwardly as Evelyn turns her attention back to me, a smile playing on her lips.

"I have to go," she murmurs softly. "I'll see you inside."

Reluctantly, I release her from my grip and watch her disappear into the masked crowd. From what Leliana and Josephine have informed me of The Game, I have a very uneasy feeling about tonight.

_Maker watch over her_.

* * *

><p><strong>Note<strong>: The next chapter will take place in the actual ball itself, so I haven't by-passed that wonderful quest! (and that little dance in the end that melts us all into a puddle of goo on the ground *wink wink*)


	16. Wicked Eyes & Wicked Hearts

I'm on a roll, you guys! Two chapters in less than a few hours! I LOVE CULLEN RUTHERFORD LIKE OMG!

* * *

><p>"Smile, Commander! You are so handsome when you smile.."<p>

"He is just as handsome when he doesn't."

_Andraste's flaming sword_.

"Are you married, Commander?"

I glance at the masked nobleman standing painfully close to me, feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

"Not yet," I reply politely. "But I am... already taken."

My eyes flash around the ballroom as I say this, desperate for a sign of her.

"Still single, then..." the nobleman responds with a disturbingly seductive tone to his voice.

_Maker, is that man willfully deaf?_

I idly sip some water from the glass in my hands, closing my eyes momentarily in an attempt to calm the relentless throbbing in my head.

"You must dance with me, Commander!" the nobleman presses on, and I could swear that he has inched even _closer_ to me. "You cannot stand about all evening!"

I bring down the glass from my lips and give him a polite smile.

"I am afraid not," I tell him. "Thank you."

"Can I get you a drink, Commander Cullen?" one of the women surrounding me asks enthusiastically.

"No, thank you," I decline with yet another forced smile. I nervously tug at the collar of my jacket, feeling increasingly warm.

_Maker's breath. How do I get away from these-_

"Commander?"

I look up, unable to mask the intense relief that washes through me when I see her standing before me.

"Inquisitor," I say, the relief very evident in my voice. "Did you need something?"

"You wouldn't mind if I stole the Commander for a little while, would you?" Evelyn very politely bows and asks the noblemen and women surrounding me.

"Of course, my dear Inquisitor!" the nobleman replies first. "Just be sure to bring him back. The evening wouldn't be the same without him."

"We won't be a moment," Evelyn smiles and bows her head again, and if she was amused by or surprised at the nobleman's response, her face does not show it. She beckons me to follow and leads me to a dark corner concealed by a pillar in a distant area of the ballroom.

As soon as I am sure we are hidden from prying eyes, I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her impatiently, hungry for her touch after being deprived of it for so long. She eagerly kisses me back briefly before gently pulling away.

"You've attracted a following," she says, her eyes darting over my shoulder to the nobles. "Who were all those people?"

"I don't know," I reply with exasperation, shooting them a nervous glance over my shoulder. "But they won't leave me alone!"

She smiles, stroking the length of my face.

"Not enjoying the attention, then?" she asks teasingly.

"Hardly," I reply gruffly. "Anyway, yours-" I pause and clear my throat, smoothing my voice and lowering it considerably, "Yours is the only attention worth having."

She grins and wraps her arms around my neck, standing on the tips of her toes to reach my lips. I tighten my arms around her and press her against me, an involuntary sigh escaping my lips. So _potent_ is the extent of my desire for her touch.

"I don't suppose you'd save a dance for me?" she asks me quietly when our lips part.

"No, thank you," I automatically blurt out.

"Oh," she unwraps her arms from around my neck, her expression... dejected.

_Maker! Wait! No! That's not what I meant!_

"No!" I splutter in horror. "I didn't mean to- Maker's breath! I've answered that question so many times that I'm rejecting it automatically! I... I'm not once for dancing," I admit. "The Templars never attended balls."

She smiles up at me again, compassion replacing the disappointment that stirred me into a flurry.

"That's all right," she says soothingly, bringing her hand up to smooth my hair. "We can do _other_ things to enjoy each other's company."

Maker's breath.

The way she _sounded_ when she said that...

I need some air.

"Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?" she asks.

"Not yet," I respond, my eyes cautiously looking around to see if anyone has noticed us. "It would be easier if people would stop talking to me. Other people," I quickly add. "Not you."

She looks over my shoulder again and scans our surroundings carefully.

"I should get back to it," she whispers. "We'll talk later."

She cups my face in her hands and kisses me one last time, dizzying me significantly in the process.

"I await your signal," I whisper against her lips before letting her go. I wait for a while so as to deter people from noticing us emerging from our little hiding place together, straightening my jacket and loosening my collar in the process. Then, I take a deep breath to clear my mind and walk back into the thick of it.

I pour myself another glass of water from one of the many jugs placed on every table and casually stroll around, keeping my eyes focused for anything out of the ordinary and straining my ears to listen to every conversation I happen upon.

Then, something so _extraordinary_, something so _ludicrous_ and _unexpected_ happens that it shocks me so vigorously, I spill all of my water onto the polished marble floor.

"Did you just squeeze my bottom?!" I turn to a nobleman I had just walked by. It was the same man who had been... erm... chatting me up earlier.

"I'm a weak man," the man shrugs lazily.

_Andraste preserve me! Is this how people show their interest in Orlais?_

Not knowing how to react to such a response, I simply blink at him and walk away, carefully stepping over the pool of water before me.

I notice two elven servants whispering away in a corner, so I casually stroll by, pretending to admire a nearby painting on the wall.

"Would you like another drink, monsieur?" one of them notices me and bats her lashes when she sees the empty glass in my hands.

"No, thank you," I respond. "But you may want to have someone wipe up that water over there. Before someone slips and gravely injures themselves."

"Of course, monsieur!" she bows and hurries away, leaving her companion alone. The other elf smiles at me shyly, so I take it as an opportunity to casually question her under the pretense of making small talk.

"You've worked here long?" I ask her with a smile.

She blushes and smiles back with interest, batting her lashes just as her friend had.

"Not very," she replies in a thick Orlesian accent. "Only a few weeks."

"And how are you finding it so far?"

"Good, I suppose," she shrugs.

"You're treated well in the palace?" I press on.

Despite her interest in talking to me, she is quite tight-lipped about the topic of her employment.

"Yes," she replies simply.

I nod and look away, my eyes widening when I notice Evelyn talking to Duchess Florianne by the entrance to the ballroom.

"You are with the Inquisition, then?" the elven girl asks. I blink and look down at her, surprised that she was still standing there.

"Yes," I smile.

"And, you are with the Inquisitor, are you not?"

I start, not quite sure what she meant by her question.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

She smiles coyly, as though telling me not to toy with her.

"You two are lovers," she states simply. "She is a lucky woman."

_Is it _that_ clear to everyone?_

I shift uncomfortably in my place, tugging at my collar as my eyes flit back over to Evelyn.

_Maker..._

Is she about to _dance_ with the Duchess?

"_I_ am a lucky man," I reply with a small smile, my eyes fixed on my Inquisitor.

_The_ Inquisitor. Not mine.

My apologies for that little slip up.

"Well then, make sure you tell your Inquisitor this," the elven servant's voice is suddenly hushed, and there is a tone of urgency to it that catches me by surprise. "Something is going on in the servant's quarters. We don't know what it is, but other elves that have entered that area of the palace have not come out for _hours_."

I stare at her, the fear in her large, dark eyes as clear as day.

"I will inform her as soon as I see her," I reply solemnly.

The elf bows her head in acknowledgment and slips away, heading in the direction her companion had gone earlier.

I turn my attention back to the dance floor and, sure enough, Evelyn is preparing to dance with the Duchess of Lydes. I set my empty glass down on a table and walk to the banister surrounding the dance floor, crossing my arms and leaning against it as I watch them dance.

I am _mesmerized_ by the way she moves.

So _graceful_, so fluid and light, yet so _precise_.

I have never been so enthralled by a dance in all my life.

And neither has the rest of the court, or so it seems.

"The Inquisitor dances _marvelously_," I hear the Dowager comment on my left.

"She _is_ a Trevelyan, after all," another responds. "Even if they are Marchers, a noble is still a noble. Her family has reared her well."

I roll my eyes at that last comment.

"Pray, is she single?" a man asks his companion. "I would _love_ to sink my teeth into a _delightful_ creature such as she."

"I hear she is taken," his companion replies in a hushed voice. "That handsome Commander of hers? Word is they are together."

I feel a smirk tug at the corner of my lips as I notice the men looking at me out of the corner of my eye.

"What a shame," the interested man replies, though his voice barely reflects his disappointment, if he truly even feels any.

I clap along with the rest of the court when the dance is over, suddenly feeling very stupid for rejecting her offer earlier. She bows and stands up straight, a polite smile plastered on her face. She then looks around the ballroom until she spots me and the other advisors, giving us a small and discreet nod.

That is our signal.

Josephine, Leliana and I quickly wait for her at the foot of the side stairs leading up from the dance floor, Josephine absolutely exuberant over the dance's success.

"You will be the talk of the Court for months!" she exclaims gleefully as soon as Evelyn joins us, but from the look on her face, it is clear that the Inquisitor did not summon us for small talk.

"Cullen, ready your men," she instructs me authoritatively. "The Duchess is up to something."

* * *

><p>"I am still in shock!"<p>

"How terribly entertaining this was!"

I shuffle my way through the chattering crowds, all of them drunk on the Inquisitor's success.

The Empress is saved, the Duchess imprisoned, and the Duke banished from Orlais as an enemy of the empire. Everyone toasts and drinks in her name, but Evelyn is no where to be found.

_Where on earth has she disappeared to?_

I pass by the grand balcony occupied by the Empress earlier, my face lighting up when I see her leaning against the banister, looking out at the courtyard beneath her. I nearly walk into a pale, dark-haired, heavily bejeweled woman as she emerges from that very balcony with a small smile on her face. I pause by the entrance, waiting for the woman to leave, before I walk to the Inquisitor's side.

"There you are," I tell her gently. "Everyone has been looking for you."

I lean against the banister, close enough to touch her arm with mine. She looks at me and smiles despite the exhaustion that is clear on her face.

"Things have calmed down for the moment," I tell her soothingly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm just worn out," she replies wearily. "Tonight has been... very long."

"For all of us," I smile and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm glad it's over."

She nods, her eyes cast down at the fountain beneath us.

"I know it's foolish, but I was worried for you tonight," I confess, gently placing my hand on her shoulder. She smiles and pats my hand in acknowledgment, but says nothing in response.

She looks quite... worn.

The sound of clapping suddenly permeates the air, intermingling with laughter and the soft music playing in the background. I turn back to look at the ballroom, and I suddenly get an idea that brings a smile to my lips.

"I may never have another chance like this," I say, turning back to her. "So I must ask."

I step back and bow, offering her my hand to take. She turns to look at me, her brow raising in surprise.

"May I have this dance, my lady?"

My heart skips a beat or two when I see her face light up in joy, any trace of fatigue instantly wiped away.

"Of course!" she exclaims with a grin. "I thought you didn't dance!"

I take her hand in mine and slide my other arm around her waist, moving in time with the music.

"For _you_," I murmur, gazing into her warm brown eyes and marveling at how the moonlight enhances her beauty, "I'll try."

She blushes, giggling when she notices my clumsy footwork and tries to guide me with simple steps.

"Forgive me," I grin in embarrassment when I nearly step on her foot. "I told you I'm hopeless at this."

"You're doing fine," she laughs, resting her head on my shoulder as we continue to sway.

I smile and kiss the top of her head, breathing in her scent as I always do.

"Thank you," she murmurs gratefully.

"For what?" I ask softly.

"For _this_," she replies. "This is a beautiful end to the night."

I smile down at her silently for a moment.

"I love you," I whisper.

She looks up at me, eyes warm and tender

"And I love you," she whispers back.

I bring down our interlocked hands and snake my arms around her waist, kissing her under the clear, starless night.

_Safe and solid, protecting and proud._

_He feels like quiet._

_Stronger when she holds him._


	17. Blood Hunt

**NSFW **to begin with! I think I'm getting a bit more confident with the love-making. It's becoming 'part of the job' now (oh my god, i just sounded like a noob prostitute, didn't i?). Anyhow, I hope that comes across in the writing! Still not as descriptive as 99% of fanfics that I have personally come across, but all your feedback indicates that you find the lack of description to be in tune with Cullen's shy nature, so I guess it works out in the end!

* * *

><p>Almost as soon as we board our carriage and depart back to Skyhold, the Inquisitor falls asleep, her head resting heavily against my shoulder. Everyone apart from Cole falls asleep at some point or the other, although my throbbing headache deters me from doing the same. So I spend the better part of the journey cradling Evelyn against me, making sure that she is in a comfortable position that would not see her waking up with a sore neck or back the next day.<p>

So deep is Evelyn's slumber that she barely moves throughout the entire journey, and she still shows no sign of waking up when we eventually arrive at Skyhold several hours later. I try to gently wake her, but she merely rubs her head against my shoulder, completely oblivious to her surroundings.

So, I do the only plausible thing I can think of and carefully take her in my arms and carry her to her quarters, the courtyard still dark in the early hours of the morning. Once there, I gently set her down on her bed and remove her boots and formal garb before draping her blanket over her. I sit by the edge of her bed for a while, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest with each deep breath she takes.

With the Maker's blessing, she has once again emerged unscathed.

_Blessed be the Maker_.

I lean down and kiss her forehead before carefully getting up and lighting a fire in her fireplace. Then, with eyelids as heavy as lead and feet I can barely lift off the ground, I make my way to my quarters, practically collapsing face-first onto my pillow and slipping into unconsciousness before I can even remove my boots.

When the glaring sunlight awakens me a few hours later, I realise that I am still in the exact position I had been when I first fell asleep, which is not the norm for a messy sleeper such as myself. My head still throbbing, I blink against the light and curse myself for neglecting to repair that stupid roof. My stomach rumbles loudly, but I ignore it and start to undress, readying myself for a much needed bath.

I heat some water in the fireplace and pour it into the wooden tub, testing the temperature with my toe before sinking in completely, letting out a loud, satisfied sigh as the hot water envelopes me and instantly soothes the tension in my muscles. At first, my thoughts drift to Evelyn and what she might be doing now, but darker thoughts soon push through, causing me to grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut to force them out.

It's relentless.

But I _will_ endure.

I take slow, deep, deliberate breaths as I turn my mind to more pleasant thoughts.

I think of our dance last night, of how magnificent she looked, smiling up at me under the moonlit sky.

I think of how she laughed and patiently taught me the basics of moving my feet without stomping on her own.

I think of how she felt and tasted in my mouth when we kissed, her touch still as thrilling as the first kiss we shared on the battlements all those months ago...

"Cullen?"

"Hmm?" My lips lazily stretch into a crooked smile.

"Cullen, can you hear me?"

My eyes flutter open, and I look up to see the Inquisitor kneeling by the bath tub, warmly smiling down at me and looking well rested.

"I think you've fallen asleep in your bath, Commander," she says, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

I blink rapidly and sit up, wincing at my sore neck- a result of awkwardly sleeping in the bath, no doubt.

"What time is it?" I ask her sleepily, squinting my eyes against the sunlight.

"Nearly eleven," she smiles. "I was worried that you've been in this tub since we came back from Halamshiral, but then I saw that you didn't freeze to death, so disaster averted, thank the Maker."

I chuckle weakly and gaze up at her, a wild idea suddenly manifesting itself in my head.

"Would you care to join me?" I ask her with a suggestive grin. "There is more than enough space to share and the water is still very warm."

Her eyes widen and her brow raises high in amusement as she considers my offer, her gaze gliding over my naked body.

"I don't see why not," she replies, her voice dripping heavily with seduction. My grin widens and my pulse quickens as I watch her undress, and I can already feel the beginnings of arousal taking a hold on me.

I keep my eyes on her as she stands naked before me, and I cannot help but bite my lower lip as I watch her step into the tub and slide down, nestling in between my legs. She brings her knees to her chest and smiles at me as she reaches for her hair and undoes the hair tie pulling it up, allowing her soft, wavy tresses to cascade onto her shoulders.

_Maker's breath._

I swallow as I continue to watch her, and I notice that the throbbing in my head has now transferred to a much _lower_ region of my body.

"Slept well?" I ask her, my voice weak.

"Yes," she nods. "Very well. Thank you, by the way. For tucking me into bed, I mean. Reminded me of when I was a child."

"In the Circle?" I ask, my eyes flickering to her breasts, the water too shallow to reach them.

"Yes," she replies with a fond smile. "A Templar-Ser Conrad, I believe was his name- always used to carry me to my bed in the Apprentice wing every night he found me dosing off in the library. And never once did he wake me or complain about it. We weren't even supposed to _be_ in the library that late into the night." Her smile widens, the memory clearly very dear to her. "One of the nicest and most gentle men I have ever known," she continues. "Reminds me a lot of someone, actually. Someone very special and dear to me."

I feel my face grow warm when I see her eyes lingering on me and realise that _I_ am the one she is referring to.

She gazes at me a moment longer before occupying herself with her nails, which she tends to nibble on every now and then.

Suddenly, without any warning, I slide myself forward in the bath, my arousal intensifying when I brush myself against her as I take her in my arms and eagerly cover her mouth with mine. The sudden movement sends most of the bath water splashing onto the stone floor, but I am far beyond caring. The floor needed a clean in any case.

She gasps and instantly snakes her fingers through my hair, her eagerness easily matching my own. She runs her tongue over my lower lip and bites it lightly before moving down to my jaw, my stubble scratching her soft skin as she kisses me. I watch my chest rapidly rise and fall as she caresses it with her lips, deliberately circling her tongue over my nipples until she draws a long, shuddering moan from deep within me.

I start to tremble as my eyes follow her continue to move down, kissing and licking my wet skin every inch of the way.

_Sweet Maker..._

Her eyes flash up at me when her face is between my legs, her breath _hot_ against me, the anticipation nearly driving me _insane_.

She teases me with her tongue, and I grip at the edges of the tub with my hands, my breath shallow and ragged. My eyes roll into the back of my head when I feel her hot mouth enveloping me, but I _fight_ to keep them open and watch as she pleasures me.

_Maker, I'm not going to last_...

"Wait, Evelyn," I gasp between my moaning, gently bringing a shaking hand to her shoulder. She stops, but does not release me from her mouth. "I...I don't want to..."

I can barely _speak_, and thankfully, I do not need to, because she demonstrates her understanding by gently releasing me and crawling back up to my mouth.

I grasp at her hungrily, my lips bordering on _ravenous_. We both stand up and step out of the bath, a breathless chuckle escaping my throat as I catch her when she almost slips on the wet stone floor. We stumble blindly onto my bed, and she impatiently straddles me, the wooden bed frame's loud creaking only concealed by our louder, carnal cries that carry to my office downstairs.

Knowing that I will not last long, and desperate for her to catch up with me, I sit up and cover her breasts with my mouth, moving my hand down between her legs and rubbing my fingers gently yet quickly against her. She gasps and pleads for me not to stop, clutching my hair tightly with her fingers.

I feel her clench around me, and I move my free hand up to her face.

"_Look at me_," I whisper when I see her eyes roll back. "_Evelyn_..."

She opens her eyes and obliges, her grip tightening even further on my hair. I watch as she resists the reflex of closing her eyes, her mouth open in a small 'O' of pleasure.

"_Cullen_," she whimpers as I rub my fingers even faster against her. I continue to do so until she cries out her pleasure, her hips bucking uncontrollably against me. She, in turn, does not stop moving around me until I echo her cry very shortly after. My breath coming in loud, ragged huffs, I relax back onto the mattress, the sheets damp beneath our wet and slick bodies.

"Is it just me, or does this keep getting better and better?" I ask her breathlessly as she slides off and curls herself next to me.

"Oh, it _definitely_ keeps getting better and better," she replies shakily, resting her head on my chest.

We lie there in silence for a while as we recover from our..._exertions_.

"Are the doors to my office unlocked?" I suddenly ask, panic gripping at me.

"I didn't touch the side doors, so I imagine they are still locked" she says. "And I locked the front door behind me when I came in."

"Oh, good," I sigh in relief.

I shudder to picture the look on my soldiers' faces if one of them happened to come in while we were otherwise 'occupied'. It is one thing to walk in on us before our first kiss (recruit Jim _still_ has difficulties with looking me in the eye), but it is _entirely_ another matter to overhear us in the midst of a most intimate act.

I grimace at the very _thought_.

"Now I'm sleepy again," she mumbles accusingly, running her fingers idly across my chest.

"You need your rest, my love," I murmur and kiss her forehead. "You _have_ just secured us an alliance with the strongest empire in Thedas, after all."

"I couldn't have done it without you and the rest of the Inquisition," she replies sleepily. I smile warmly at her humility and reach down for the blanket by our feet, pulling it up over our naked bodies. She quickly falls asleep, and I drift off a few times as well, but never for long.

A while passes—perhaps an hour- and I am resting on my side, my left leg swung over her lower body, absentmindedly stroking her locks as I watch her face, inches away from mine on my pillow.

As my eyes linger on her elegant features, a disturbing thought starts playing in my mind.

I must speak to Leliana.

Today.

* * *

><p>"Ah, Commander," Leliana smiles and looks up from the parchment she was hastily scrawling on. "I was just reading the report from Ser Rylen-"<p>

She stops short, her smile instantly fading away when she sees the grave expression on my face.

"What's wrong?" she asks, her brow furrowing in concern.

"I... I need to ask a favour of you, Leliana," I tell her.

"Of course," she nods, straightening up in her chair. "Anything, Commander."

I smile weakly and take the seat opposite her, my eyes scanning our surroundings to make sure the conversation remains private.

"It's about the Inquisitor," I tell her, carefully choosing my words.

"Yes?" she leans in closer across the table. "What about the Inquisitor?"

I pause for a moment before responding. I open my mouth to explain, but a very loud shout from the library below us forces me to stop short.

"Solas!" Dorian's voice booms throughout the tower. "I found the book you were looking for! Catch!"

I hear a loud thud as Dorian flings what must be a very heavy tome one floor down.

"Careful!" Solas shouts back. "Are you purposely trying to knock me out?!"

"What are you complaining about?" Dorian laughs. "I thought you _liked_ passing out and traipsing about in the fade!"

Leliana and I exchange an amused look at the animated exchange.

"Thank you, at any rate," Solas calls out after a pause.

"You're most welcome," Dorian replies.

I wait for a moment longer, in case they are not quite done with their shouting contest.

"You were saying, Commander?" Leliana smiles.

"The Inquisitor," I begin. "Her phylactery. We know nothing of its whereabouts, do we?"

"No," Leliana responds. "Not at the moment."

I feel my brow furrow as my anxiety heightens.

"I need you to help me find it," I tell her gravely. "I... I just won't feel at ease until-"

"There is no need to explain, Commander," Leliana tells me. "I will get my best people on it immediately."

I sigh in relief, a warm smile spreading across my lips.

"Thank you," I say with intense gratitude. "This... this means a great deal to me."

"We are friends, Cullen," she smiles. She rarely, if _ever_, uses my first name. "What are friends for?"

"I found another one!" Dorian suddenly shouts out again. "_Dalish Mythology & Where They Went Wrong_. Interested?"

"I suppose I could- _fenhedis_! You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" Solas yells out angrily as he apparently dodges yet another poorly aimed throw from Dorian.

"Don't blame me!" Dorian exclaims. "You're so hard to see! You're always so... nondescript."

"Please speak up!" Solas shouts back. "I cannot hear you over your outfit!"

Friendship, it seems, takes a lot of varying forms.

* * *

><p>Special shout out to my dear tumblr buddy <strong>retailavenger85<strong> for coming up with the idea of hunting down the inquisitor's phylactery!


	18. Perseverance

_Maker_.

This headache is _unbearable_.

I have spent the last half hour attempting to review the numerous reports and training schedules strewn across my desk, but every time I attempt to focus my eyes on the writing, the blood rushes down my head, leaving me nauseated and disoriented.

I feel a fresh drop of sweat rolling down my temple, and I wipe it away with a cloth, my hand trembling. I take a deep, rattling breath and sit back, throwing my head back against my chair.

_Ignore it_, I tell myself repeatedly. _Just ignore it_. _You're fine. You are doing **fine**_.

A light knock on the door rouses me from my thoughts, and I sit up straight, quickly wiping my brow again.

"Come in," I clear my throat and call out.

Leliana slips in quietly, holding a rectangular-shaped container draped in cloth in her gloved hands. She sets it down carefully before me, her blue eyes narrowing slightly when she gets a closer look at me.

"Commander-" she starts.

"I'm fine, Leliana," I tell her dismissively. "It's nothing. What might that be?" I nod at the cloth-covered box, feeling genuinely curious and also eager to divert her attention.

She scowls at me in disapproval for a moment before responding.

"Your favour," she says. "It took a while, but my agents eventually managed to find it."

I lean forward in my seat, my mouth opening in surprise.

"Her phylactery?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yes," she nods.

I blink at her, barely able to believe my eyes and ears, before I carefully reach over and pick up the box, bringing it closer to me. With trembling hands, I lift off the cloth and place it aside, staring at the elaborately carved symbols on the wood.

I swallow as my fingers lift up the lid, revealing a glass vial, filled to the brim with dark, crimson blood.

_Her_ blood.

I look back at Leliana, who is watching me silently with a sombre expression on her face.

"I..." I exhale loudly, still stunned in my disbelief. "_Thank_ you."

She nods once.

"Are you sure you are all right, Commander?" she asks.

"I will be," I force a smile.

"I will take my leave, then," she nods again. She turns on her heels and gracefully walks to the door, pausing and shooting me a glance over her shoulder before slipping through it and silently shutting it behind her.

I look back down at the phylactery, and I stare at it for an exceptionally long time, refraining from touching it out of fear of accidentally smashing the glass if it were to slip.

Suddenly, the headache is not as troublesome anymore.

My mind has finally found some semblance of comfort it can latch onto.

I will always worry for her well-being. I am worried _now _as she prepares to track down Samson in Emprise du Lion. But that is not a matter I have any control over.

_This,_ however... _This_ I can take care of.

I close the lid and wrap the cloth around the box, shaking my head and laughing darkly to myself at the irony of the situation.

A former Templar.

And a former _overzealous_ Templar at that.

Hunting down his mage lover's phylactery.

If anybody would have told me this a few years ago, I would have declared them mad and possessed by a demon.

I automatically pull open the first drawer in my desk, freezing when the _other_ wooden box emerges into view, it's elegant carvings deceptive in it's elegance.

My jaw muscles clenching, I slam the drawer shut, opening the one beneath it instead. I carefully stow away the phylactery and stand up, placing my palms on the desk's surface and leaning heavily against it.

I hear the sound of rattling ceramic, and I see that the ink bottle on my desk is shaking.

A direct result of the near uncontrollable shaking of my body.

I take a deep breath and angrily push off from the desk.

Anger grips at me, overshadowing the guilt that had started to bubble up and fester within me since I dismissed Leliana's concern for me in so harsh a manner.

Maker.

I...don't know what to _do_.

I stride to the side door to the left and stick my head out, my eyes scanning for a soldier.

"Matilda!" I call out at one of our newest elven recruits. She jumps at the sound of my voice and rushes towards me.

"Commander!" she salutes.

"At ease. I need you to ask one of the other soldiers to relieve you from your post. I need you stationed here in my office in case anyone comes calling for me."

"Yes, Ser!"

"Come in," I beckon and lead her inside. "Should anyone come in, I need you to tell them that I've gone to speak with Seeker Pentaghast," I explain. "Understood?"

"Ser!" she exclaims again.

"Good," I nod. "I will be back shortly."

I turn on my heel and march towards the armoury with purpose.

I may be at a loss of how to deal with this ordeal, but I am certain of one thing:

This...whatever this madness is... it cannot go on.

* * *

><p>"<em>I need to be alone."<em>

Those were my last words to her today.

_That_ is how I thanked her for taking the time to check on me and help me stay on the right path.

Granted, I was in a terrible mental state. I lost control, showed her a darker side to me that I have always been ashamed of. A side that I have tirelessly fought against in all my months in service of the Inquisition.

And in one moment of weakness, most likely triggered by the vulnerability I always feel in her presence, the fortress of mental fortitude that I have worked so hard to build within me came crashing down, crumbling at her feet, showing her who I _truly_ am behind the sturdiness of armour and rank.

And she never faltered.

She brought a gentle hand to my face, forcing me to look at her as she spoke the decisive words that swept through me like a soothing balm.

_"You can."_

And that was all it took.

I have never felt my resolve harden as much as it had in that moment.

In an instant, my path became crystal clear to me, clearer than it had ever been, and I believed in myself then, because _she_ believed in me.

Yet, I sent her away.

I tear my gaze away from the window I was blindly staring through and bend down to splash my face with water from the stone basin in my quarters.

It is now pitch black outside. The beginnings of a blizzard blow around the fortress, barely visible in the moonless night. I slip out of my armour and into more comfortable clothing before descending the ladder to my office. I sit at my desk and pull open the second drawer, my eyes studying the box housing her phylactery.

Suddenly, I pull out the box and take the coat draped over the back of my chair, draping it over my shoulders. I step out onto the battlements and quickly make my way towards the main hall, my teeth chattering loudly as I sprint across the exterior.

Feeling relieved when I see that the main hall is all but deserted, I stride towards the throne, quietly slipping through the wooden door leading to the Inquisitor's quarters. I pause when I reach the door leading directly into her chambers, and, with my heart hammering nervously in my chest, I softly knock thrice against it.

I take a step back, looking down at the box in my hands as I wait.

"Cullen?"

My eyes snap up to meet her, and I feel as though my stomach is in danger of falling down to the ground.

"Evelyn," I breathe, struggling to rearrange my thoughts. "I... I'm sorry, is this a bad time?"

"No," she replies immediately, stepping back to let me in. "Come in."

I smile, my eyes gauging her expression as I step into the warmth of her bedroom.

"Is anything the matter?" she softly asks me as she shuts the door behind her. I notice that she does not lock it as she usually does when I visit her. I also notice that she has not yet changed into her nightgown.

"I wanted to thank you," I tell her gently, setting down the box on a table before stopping by the hearth. "When you came to see me... if there's anything..."

I exhale loudly, rubbing the back of my neck in my flustered state.

"This sounded much better in my head," I finish lamely.

She smiles warmly as she approaches me by the hearth. I notice that she stops at a greater distance than usual, taking care to keep a certain amount of space between us.

An unfortunate side effect of my foul mood this afternoon, no doubt.

"I trust you're feeling better?" she asks.

"I... yes," I respond. "Much better."

She appraises my face carefully by the firelight.

"Is it always that bad?"

Guilt and shame rack through me as my mind turns back to the afternoon's events.

"The pain comes and goes," I reply. "Sometimes I feel as if I am back there..." I close my eyes and shake my head as I relive that terrible time. "I should not have pushed myself so far that day."

"I'm just glad you're all right," she smiles. I look at her and take a step closer to her.

"I am," I smile back. I turn to look at the burning embers in the fireplace. "I never told anyone what truly happened to me at Ferelden's Circle," I confess. "I was... not myself after that. I was angry. For years, that anger blinded me. I'm not proud of the man that made me."

I pause and look at her, meeting her solemn gaze as she silently listens to me as a priest would listen to a sinner's confession.

"The way I saw mages..." I continue, "I'm not sure I would have cared about you." I take a few steps closer to her, closing the distance between us. I reach out tentatively and stroke her hair, my eyes searching her face. "And the thought of that _sickens_ me."

My voice trails off towards the end, rendering the last word almost undetectable.

She briefly closes her eyes under my touch, and I take the opportunity to kiss her lightly on her forehead.

"Now, I can put some distance between myself and everything that happened," I smile weakly. "It's a start."

She brings her hand to my cheek and cups it gently with her palm.

"For what it's worth, I like who you are now," she tells me gently.

I feel my eyebrows fly up in my surprise at her words.

"Even after...?"

She brings her other hand and cups my face on either side, her eyes holding mine intently.

"Cullen, I _love_ you," she says. "You've done _nothing_ to change that."

My heart flutters in my chest, and I feel my lips stretch into a tender smile as I look down at her precious face.

"Those words..." I whisper as I stroke her cheek. "You have no idea what they do to me..."

I lean in and kiss her gently and slowly, savouring the feel of her soft, full lips against mine.

"I love you," I whisper, closing my eyes and resting my forehead against hers. I inhale deeply and let out a long, rattling breath, overwhelmed with emotion. She rests her head against my chest and takes me in an embrace, and we silently hold each other for a few moments, the only sound in the room emanating from the crackling embers in the fireplace.

"What's in that box?" she asks when we pull apart.

I turn around and look at the carved box sitting innocently on her table. I feel myself starting to get nervous as I ponder her reaction over the revelation that I have sought out her phylactery. I shoot her a small smile before striding to the box and picking it up, very aware of her close scrutiny. I walk back to her and take her hand, leading her to the foot of her bed. We sit, and I hand her the box, my gaze anxiously flitting to her face.

She shoots me a curious look before opening the lid, my eyes studying her every reaction.

Her dark eyes widen as surprise paints her features.

"That's..."

"A phylactery, yes," I reply. "_Your_ phylactery."

She stares at it for a long while, entirely speechless as she picks up the glass vial and examines it. I anxiously chew on my lower lip as I patiently await a reaction.

"How did you find it?" she finally asks, the glinting glass flashing as the firelight hits it.

"I asked Leliana to have her people search," I reply.

She sets down the vial back in the box and looks up at me, her eyes wide.

"But why?"

I shift my body closer to her and take her hands in mine, resting them on my lap.

"Because I love you," I tell her gently. "Because I care for you above anything else. Because I want to keep you _safe_. In _any_ way I can. I know how Templars think, Evelyn. If there was even the slightest chance the Red Templars could track down your phylactery for Corypheus and use it to locate you..." I shudder and feel sick at the very thought, "I couldn't let that happen."

She smiles warmly up at me and gently slides one of her hands away to close the box, setting it aside beside her. She turns back to me, my eyes closing as she caresses my face before kissing me lightly.

"Stay with me tonight?" she asks.

I smile and brush the tip of my nose against hers.

"Of course," I reply softly.

She gives me another brief kiss before placing the box on her bedside table and slipping away to change into her nightgown. I shrug out of my coat and undershirt and drape them over one of her chairs, impatiently joining her as she climbs into her bed. She blows out the candle by her bedside table, throws the quilt over us and nestles herself against me, wrapping her arm securely around my waist.

"Cullen?" she asks after a long stretch of silence.

"Hmm?"

"What will you do once this is over?"

I look down at her, her face barely visible in the dim light emanating from the fire.

"As long as we are together, nothing else matters," I murmur and run my fingers through her hair. She smiles and lays her head back down against my chest, kissing it softly.

Another long pause ensues, sleep slowly taking a hold on me.

"Cullen?"

"Yes?"

"The Hero of Ferelden was a Circle mage," she says. "Did you know her?"

My brow rises at the randomness of the question.

"I attended her Harrowing, actually," I respond. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I remember her. "She was a lovely woman."

I feel her shift against me as she looks up at my face.

"Lovely?" she asks with a curious smile.

I chuckle at her reaction, and I must admit that I am secretly feeling quite pleased at the poorly concealed jealousy in her tone.

"There was some... youthful infatuation on my part. A feeling I had forsaken until recently."

"You never acted on it?" she presses on.

My smile grows even wider at her possessiveness.

"She was one of my charges," I explain. "Even if she felt the same, it would have been... inappropriate."

She traces her fingers over my bare chest in silence.

"There was a Templar I fancied back in the Ostwick Circle," she confesses. I raise my eyebrows at her, the jealousy creeping up on _me_ this time.

"Oh?" I feign aloofness. "Who was he?"

"Remember that Templar I told you about? Ser Conrad?"

"Yes..."

"He was the youngest Templar in the Circle," she explains. "He was only a few years older than me, in fact. At first, I looked up to him as a brother, and he cared for me as his sister. But... as we grew older, our feelings for each other developed into something more... intimate."

I take a moment to process her words.

It appears my masochistic penchant for mages is matched by her predilection for Templars.

"Did you love him?" I ask her after a brief pause.

"We were both young," she replies softly as she reminisces. "Well, he was in his twenties by the time I was a teenager. We... started being intimate with each other when I was sixteen. No one knew, of course. The Templar he shared a room with had been promoted to the Officers' Wing, and for the longest time, no one else shared a room with him. I would sneak into his room and spend the night with him frequently."

"What happened to him?" I probe, ignoring the jealousy building up as I listen to the obvious fondness that she still harbours for him.

"He was transferred to the White Spire as a promotion for exemplary service," she replies sadly. "We had been together for an entire year. I was devastated when he told me. He wasn't too happy about it either. He told me that I was the only woman he had ever been with. The only woman he had ever loved... I don't know what has become of him since the rebellion."

She sighs and loses herself in thought.

"He clearly meant a lot to you," I tell her softly. "I'm sorry."

She looks up at me and places her warm palm against my cheek.

"Don't be," she smiles. "Maybe if he had never left, I wouldn't have found _you_. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Cullen. While I may have cared for Conrad at one time, whatever I felt for him pales in comparison to what I feel for _you_."

I smile back at her, feeling beside myself with happiness. Having no words to adequately convey my feelings, I pour all of my passion into a kiss instead.

I am far more adept at kissing than talking, truth be told.

And from the gentle sighs emanating from Evelyn's lips, I think she would agree.


	19. Moonlit Fantasies

"Cullen, you can't come with me. I'm sorry."

I stare at the Inquisitor's stoic face, my eyes pleading.

"I _need_ to know you're safe, Evelyn. _Please_. Won't you reconsider?"

I reach my hand out towards her when she does not respond, desperate to feel her against my skin.

But I can't.

_Andraste's flaming- what is this?_

_A barrier?_

_An invisible barrier?_

"Evelyn, what-"

"I'm sorry, Cullen," she repeats, her eyes filled to the brim with sorrow.

With _guilt_.

"What-"

I slam my hands against the barrier separating me from her, my mind clouded with panic. It is just as though it is made of glass. Unbreakable, impenetrable glass.

She stares at me sadly as I struggle helplessly before she turns around and walks towards a figure waiting behind her, dressed in very familiar armour.

The armour that was my uniform for the last ten years.

"Evelyn!" I call out, my banging turning frantic. "Evelyn, wait!"

I watch in horror as the Templar wraps his arm around her waist and gently steers her away, his face hidden beneath his helmet.

"Evelyn!" I shout hard, my voice echoing throughout the barrier confining me. "EVELYN!"

I feel my body jerk into consciousness, my eyes flying open.

It takes me a moment to realise that I am lying in bed on my front, my face buried in the crook of Evelyn's neck. I feel her soft breasts beneath my left arm, which is loosely curled around her chest.

I lift my head up, my groggy eyes squinting, but it is difficult to determine the time due to the heavy Orlesian drapery covering the many windows surrounding Evelyn's chamber. I crane my neck to look at the elaborate clock on the mantelpiece instead.

_Seven in the morning_.

"Cullen?" Evelyn mumbles hoarsely. I turn my head and look down at her, a smile automatically forming across my lips.

"Are you all right?" she asks, her eyes barely open.

"I am," I murmur, laying down my head beside her. She rubs at her eyes and shifts to her side to face me.

"Bad dream?" she asks, slowly running her fingers through my hair. I close my eyes under her touch, instantly feeling my muscles relaxing.

"They always are," I confess. "Without lyrium, they're worse."

I open my eyes to find her watching me with marked concern.

"I didn't mean to worry you," I tell her apologetically, gently resting my hand over the length of her face.

She shifts closer to me and brings her lips to mine for a kiss.

"You can let me worry about you a little," she smiles, her eyes gazing warmly into my own.

I grin, the giddy happiness that filled me last night making a prompt and very welcome reappearance.

"All right," I smile, taking her hand and bringing it to my lips.

She blushes as she silently continues to watch me. Her shy smile and the lovely shade of red spreading across her cheeks steal any shred of patience I had within me, prompting me to take her in my arms and kiss her hungrily. I roll over her, fully intending on making love, but she presses her hands on either side of my face, causing me to pull away.

"Is anything wrong?" I ask her with concern.

"It's nearly quarter past seven," she replies. "I told the others to be ready for Emprise du Lion by eight. I can't keep them waiting."

I smile in understanding and roll off her, resting on my back beside her.

She surprises me when she rolls over me instead, smiling as she leans in close and kisses me lazily.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs against my lips. "I'll make it up to you when I get back, I promise."

I cradle her face in my hands and look at her gravely.

"Don't apologise for doing your job," I tell her. "The Inquisition must always come first. As much as I would prefer having you all to myself," I add with a smirk.

She chuckles lightly before kissing me again, longer and slower this time, her warm tongue caressing my own before slowly outlining my lips (and the scar) with the tip. I resist the reflex to thrust against her, pressed against me as she is, and I nearly give in when she sighs into my mouth, sending a _very_ pronounced shiver down my spine.

"Are you torturing me on purpose?" I ask breathlessly, the throbbing between my legs quickly growing out of check. She grins smugly when she feels my painfully obvious excitement against her.

"Sorry, sorry," she laughs and slides off me, trailing her fingers across my forearm as I reach out for her when she glides away. I prop myself on my elbow and watch as she walks towards her wardrobe, my eyes shamelessly admiring her perfectly rounded bottom.

I dress and accompany her to the gates, where Cassandra, Dorian and Iron Bull are already waiting by the carriage that will be escorting them to the Emprise.

"Look who's here," Iron Bull says when we approach them. "Morning boss, Cullen."

"Hmm, judging by how late she is in comparison to her usual tardiness, I would say it was a _very_ good start to the morning, wasn't it?" Dorian winks knowingly at me. I roll my eyes and ignore him, my face growing warm.

"Are you ready, Inquisitor?" Cassandra asks.

"Yes," Evelyn nods. She turns to me, her eyes telling me that I am not alone in dreading the impending separation.

"Uhh, we'll wait in the carriage, boss. Get started on that breakfast the cook packed for us," Bull says, and the three of them promptly board the carriage, leaving us alone.

I place my hands on either side of her head and kiss her forehead, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply as I do so.

"Take care," I murmur in a voice heard by her ears only. My tone verges on imploring. She wraps her arms around my waist, and I hold her close against me, burying my face in the crook of her neck.

"I'll be back with the information we're after," she says confidently, her voice muffled against my shoulder. "Samson won't know what hit him."

My jaw clenches at the sound of the man's name, and my grip around her tightens ever so slightly.

"I know," I smile down at her. I loosen my grip, allowing her to step back.

"I love you," she tells me softly.

"I love you too," I respond. I help her onto the carriage and shut the door behind her, knocking on the door to signal to the driver that they're ready. I then step back, my heart feeling as though it is literally sinking in my chest as I watch the carriage drive away. I do not move until it disappears from view, and as I slowly make my way back to my own quarters, I cannot help but think about Samson.

To think that the Commander of the Inquisition's army and the General of this monstrous Elder One once shared quarters in Kirkwall.

The Maker truly does have a strange sense of humour, doesn't he?

* * *

><p>"Hey boss, I think you missed a spot."<p>

Distracted from more troubling thoughts, I raise my brow as I watch Evelyn jog over to where Bull stood, smirking as he points at a plant. Once there, she immediately gets down on one knee and slices the plant using her dagger.

"You do not need to collect _every_ plant we happen to come across, Inquisitor," Cassandra tells her with a hint of exasperation in her voice. "We can have them delivered to Skyhold, if you like. Josephine can arrange for that."

Evelyn ignores her as she bends down for some Elfroot this time.

"Is she always this way?" I ask the Seeker as I continue to watch Evelyn with amusement.

"Yes," she sighs, her feet dragging beneath her.

_All_ of us are dragging our feet, in fact.

We have just emerged from the burnt down ruin that was once the Shrine of Dumat. After the Inquisitor's return from Emprise du Lion, we managed to track down Samson's stronghold, and due to a very personal interest in the matter as well as a chance to put my mind at ease by being at Evelyn's side, I accompanied her to the area, eager to face down and confront Samson personally.

Unfortunately, the bastard had fled by the time we arrived, and his..._minions_ damaged the stronghold to prevent us from recovering anything of value.

Maddox sacrificed himself for Samson.

I knew him, back when he was a mage in Kirkwall. Before he was made Tranquil by Knight-Commander Meredith.

He was a pleasant, well-spoken and kind-hearted man, and watching him die before my eyes for a monster such as Samson was beyond difficult.

This entire ordeal was beyond difficult.

Fighting my former brothers... my comrades in arms... still decked in the Templar uniform.

I never imagined I would see the day.

And I find myself wishing that I never did.

"So, camp for the night until the carriage arrives for us?" Dorian clarifies as we navigate our way through the woods leading to our encampment.

"Yes," Evelyn responds as she cleans the mud from her hands. I hear her light footsteps jogging up to me from behind, and a familiar warmth instantly washes over me when she takes my hand in hers.

"All done with your herb collection?" I smile down at her fondly.

"Oh, it _never_ ends, Commander," Dorian replies.

She rolls her eyes at him and looks back up at me with concern.

"Are you all right?" she asks, wiping off what must be one of the Templars' blood on my chin. "You look troubled."

"I'm fine," I reply, but, as with every other time I had attempted to brush off her concern, she does not appear to be convinced.

"Camp, sweet camp," Bull announces as the tents loom into sight. He takes a deep, exaggerated breath, taking in the scent of cooked meat that is wafting from the fire. "And that ram meat smells _good_."

As soon as we arrive, Evelyn strides over to the requisition officer for a report. I make my way to the potions table and check our supplies, in case we are ambushed before departing. Then, we all sit around the fire and tuck into a meal of ram meat and potatoes, mostly in silence due to our exhausted state.

"_Vishante kaffas_!" Dorian exclaims with a thoroughly disgusted expression as Bull sits down next to him. "Don't you ever bathe?"

"Sometimes," Bull shrugs before sneering lewdly at the mage. "You want to watch, don't you?"

"I'd rather stand upwind," Dorian grimaces.

"Human sweat smells like pork that's been sitting in the sun," Bull retorts. "Just saying."

"Urgh," Cassandra rolls her eyes and frowns. "Would you two stop with the bickering?" Finished with her dinner, she pulls off her right boot and examines her heel, which appears to be covered in a particularly angry looking blister.

"Let me see that," Evelyn sets aside her plate and shifts closer to Cassandra, who protests and insists that "it is nothing" at first, but finally gives in when Evelyn persuades her to let her examine it.

Once the Inquisitor is occupied with her healing and Bull and Dorian with their incessant bickering (_"Would you stop farting near my food!"_), I quietly slip away to a nearby river, desperate for some peace to reflect on the day's events.

I sit by a dry patch on the river bank and watch the reflection of the moon dance in the dark water. Images of Red Templars, mindless and monstrous, keep pushing through into my mind, but I squeeze my eyes shut, forcibly shutting them out.

My head snaps around when I hear the sound of rustling branches and crunching leaves behind me. A warm smiling spreads across my lips when I see Evelyn cautiously gazing out at me from behind a few branches, and I motion for her to come forward.

"I thought you wanted to be alone," she says, stopping beside me.

"Never from you," I murmur softly, raising my hand to touch the back of her thigh. She smiles and lowers herself down next to me, bringing her knees up to her chest as she gazes out at the river.

"Today must have been hard for you," she says after a brief stretch of silence, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

"It was," I nod, joining her in studying the rippling water. I picture all the Templars, dead and bloodied on the ground. I picture Maddox, still fiercely loyal to Samson until his very last breath. Anger boils my blood, and I clench my fists as I think about all the damage done by one, pathetic man.

"They threw their lives away for Samson," I shake my head in disbelief. "A coward who threw away the lives of his men in an instant to save his own skin." I say the last words with such _menace _and _hatred_, it makes Evelyn tear her gaze away from the river to look at me. She stares at me silently before slowly running her fingers through my hair. I close my eyes and let out a long breath, my body instantly relaxing as it always does under her touch.

"We have him, Cullen," she tells me. "The next time we see him, he's done. Dagna will make sure of that."

I meet her gaze and smile weakly, taking her hand from my cheek and bringing it to my lips.

"I know," I murmur. "You did it."

"We both fought to make this happen," she tells me gravely. "Don't sell yourself short."

I blink at her, slightly taken aback by the steely tone in her voice, before I bring my hand to her chin and tilt her face upwards for a kiss.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"Would you stop thanking me already?" she laughs.

"I'm serious!" I insist. "I... without you, I would not have been able to come this far."

She sits up and looks at me questioningly.

"Are we still talking about Samson?"

I smile at her acuteness and her incredible talent for reading my thoughts.

"I believe you already know the answer to that," I reply.

She smiles and stands up abruptly, bending down to remove her boots and-

_Maker's breath_.

"Evelyn? Wh—what are you-"

"The water's warm," she says as she pulls down her trousers. "And I'm covered in gore. I think taking a dip in the river seems a logical solution, don't you?"

"I—ah-"

My pulse quickens as I watch her breasts bounce out of their binding, which she carelessly throws at my lap. Completely nude, she steps out of the bundle of clothing and armour by her feet, and, shooting me a playful smirk, she slowly glides into the water, stopping when it reaches her collarbones.

"Well?" she laughs. "Don't just sit there! Come on!"

I turn back to make sure that no one else is watching before I proceed to strip out of my armour, impatient in my desire to join her. Shooting one last nervous glance over my shoulder, I step into the water, grinning widely as I watch her swimming towards me to meet me halfway.

She wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck, kissing me slowly and teasingly.

"There," she purrs, her breath hot against my skin. "This isn't so bad, is it?"

I let out a short, breathless laugh before I impatiently bring my mouth back to hers.

"Your hair," she says after our lips part, her eyes critically surveying the mess sitting atop my head. "It's got some blood. Here, let me..."

She unwraps her arms from around my neck and scoops up some water in her cupped hands, releasing it into my curls. I close my eyes, shuddering and sighing as she massages my scalp, gently washing away the blood and dirt that had dried onto it.

"How did so much filth get through that incredible lion helm of yours?" she says, gently forcing me to float on my back to immerse more of my hair into the water.

I laugh and ponder the answer myself.

"I honestly have no idea," I confess.

I open my eyes to see her smiling fondly at me, her fingers still working around my head.

"I love seeing you in that helm," she murmurs. "I remember watching you fight when we were attacked in Haven. Before we were together. I thought about how magnificent you looked in it much more than I should have."

My eyes widen at her surprising confession, and, as I sit up and face her, I feel my face turning warm and a smile tugging at my lips.

"You... you fantasised about me?" I ask her with light incredulity.

She laughs at me and shakes her head.

"Is that so surprising to you?" she retorts with an amused expression. "It's not like I suddenly woke up and decided 'oh, that Commander Cullen person seems nice. I think I'll start a relationship with him.' _Of course_ I thought about you, Cullen. _A lot_. All the time, actually."

I blink at her, feeling more flustered by the second. Even after months of being together, I still find myself wondering in awe at my astounding luck. Being with her is one thing, but hearing her confess her inner-most thoughts about me before we were even involved is somehow incredibly surprising.

And I am honestly not sure why.

She smiles at me, raising a dark eyebrow at my stunned silence.

"You're wondering about the helm, aren't you?"

"What?"

"The fantasies with your lion helm," she clarifies. "That must seem bizarre to you, doesn't it?"

I laugh and flip her wet hair away from her shoulders.

"I find it bizarre that you thought about me at all," I admit.

"And why is that?" she counters.

"I—I don't know. I suppose I'm just not used to hearing it."

She shakes her head and snakes her arms back around my neck.

"If only you saw yourself the way I see you," she murmurs sadly—a tone which takes me by surprise. "The way the _world_ sees you."

I blink at her, completely at a loss of what to say.

She kisses me again, impatiently and in earnest. I gasp when I feel her graze me between my legs, and I completely block out the rest of the world, seeing, feeling and hearing only her. I slide my hands down and grasp her bottom, pressing her closer against me.

_The camp is right there._

_It is literally a few yards away._

_This isn't right._

_This isn't-_

"I think they're by the- _oh_!"

Evelyn and I jump as though shocked by lightning and instantly spring apart.

Dorian appears right at the entrance to the clearing, staring at us with what what must be an embarrassed look on his face. I cannot tell for certain- I was not aware Dorian even _knew_ what embarrassment was.

"Ahh, yes, you _are_ by the river, just as I suspected, and now that we know you're safe and alive, I will walk away and leave you two be. Please don't stop on my account. Do enjoy yourselves!"

We stare at him, dumbfounded at the abruptness of it all, as he disappears through the trees.

"Well," Evelyn turns back and smiles at me. "That was-"

"No, don't go _there_!" we hear Dorian hiss behind the trees.

"I've got shit all over me!" Bull's voice protests. "I thought you _wanted_ me to clean myself up."

"Yes, but _that_ river is occupied," Dorian continues. "Go use a... a...a pond or something of the sort."

Evelyn brings her hands up to her mouth as she breaks into a fit of laughter.

"Oh, Maker," she wipes a tear from her eyes. "Those two."

"You certainly do keep interesting company," I grin, my eyes flitting back to the trees.

I see a pronounced shiver runs through her from the corner of my eye.

"It's getting cold," she says, rubbing her arms with her hands. "Do you want to head back?"

"Of course," I wrap an arm around her shoulders and bring her close against my side as we walk out of the river together. We quickly get dressed and carry our armour and weapons back to camp, taking care to keep quiet in case the other have already retired to their tents.

"Watch where you're pointing that thing!" Dorian's voice angrily exclaims a little further ahead from the camp. A splash of water tells me they must have found another place to bathe in.

"Dirty!" Bull teases.

"_Vishante kaffas_!" Dorian exclaims angrily. "I meant your weapon!"

I raise my brow at Evelyn, who is chuckling quietly into her hands again. I lift up the tent flap for her as I look over my shoulder at the source of their voices.

"Are those two...?"

She smiles as she stoops down by the tent's entrance.

"Yes," she replies gleefully. "Yes, I think they are."

* * *

><p><strong>Note<strong>: If some of you are wondering what Iron Bull's weapon was doing with him as he washed up, we actually have to have our weapons with us at all times during field exercises and basic training in the real army (which I am in), and we literally have to bathe with them when we're not allowed or unable to stow them in our lockers (or at least have them within reach while we wash up). Weirdest thing in the world when they made us shower with our rifles back in basic, let me tell you!


	20. A Champion Lost

Adrenaline.

My blood is _teeming_ with it.

One by one, possessed wardens and enraged demons fall around me, slain by my hand or the hands of my soldiers.

Everything is a blur. My body is reacting purely out of ruthless instinct, my sole focus being to protect my forces as they continue their valiant attempt to take Adamant fortress.

"Commander!"

I turn around towards the source of the shout, but it is too late- a hot, searing pain shoots through me as I feel a blade slice through my left thigh. With an agonised roar, I spin around and swing my blade across the Warden's neck, decapitating him in an instant.

And that is when it happens.

A devastating flash of green light blinds me and throws me off my feet, sending me slamming against one of the trebuchets. I lie there for a few moments, fighting off a potent wave of nausea. Once it eases, I sit up gingerly, wincing at the throbbing pain localised in the back of my head, right where it had been smacked against the wood.

"Commander!" one of the soldiers runs up to me, leaning down beside me. "Are you all right, Ser?"

"I'm fine," I nod dismissively, though I cannot help but grimace when a sharp, stabbing pain pierces through my head. Brushing away the young woman's outstretched arm, I stand up, slowly and carefully, using my sword for balance. My head spins as the blood rushes down from it, and I steady myself with deep, deliberate breaths as I look around and take in the scene before me.

It's a bloodbath.

An absolute _massacre_.

Bodies, both friendly and that of the enemy, are strewn across the battlefield, mauled and mutilated in a manner more horrific than the catastrophe that was the battle of Kirkwall. I stare at the lifeless faces of several of my soldiers as I slowly limp through to the survivors, half-convinced that this is yet another one of the several vivid nightmares that mercilessly haunt my sleep.

Suddenly, a loud, deafening shriek rips through the battlefield, and my numb disbelief intensifies tenfold as my eyes see Corypheus' monstrous dragon fly away from the crumbling fortress.

"Maker..." I breathe, my grip tightening around the hilt of my sword.

"Commander!"

I tear my gaze away from the retreating silhouette in the sky, my eyes widening in relief as I see Knight-Captain Rylen rushing towards me, a little bloody and bruised, but mercifully alive and well.

"Rylen," I nod. "Good to see you alive."

"And you, Commander," Rylen nods. "The Venatori mage leading the wardens is alive, Ser. What do we do with the bastard?"

"Bring him in. We'll leave him for the Inquisitor to judge."

It does not go past my notice that Rylen's expression turns decidedly uncomfortable at the sound of Evelyn's title.

"What is it?" I ask.

He appraises me warily before responding.

"Ser, the Inquisitor..."

_No_.

"Where is she?" I demand.

"I... I don't know, Ser," Rylen replies hesitantly. "A few of the men said she and the rest of her party fell through the battlements when the structure gave way. There was a bright green flash and then... they were gone."

"Gone?" I echo in angry disbelief. "What do you mean 'gone?' How can they just be _gone_?"

"I-I don't know," he replies. "We think she may have opened a rift. That would explain-"

"The green flash," I whisper.

Rylen nods wordlessly, his eyes continuing to watch me nervously.

_Andraste preserve me_.

_If she does not return..._

"Commander, your leg-"

I blink and look down at the wound.

It isn't deep, and the blood has already stopped flowing from it. I pull out my bandages from the healing kit attached to my belt and hand it to him.

"Go and check on the survivors," I tell him as I begin to stride over to a staircase leading up to the battlements.

"But, Commander-"

"_Do_ as you are told, Rylen," I order. "Account for the survivors and make sure they all have sufficient equipment to patch themselves up."

"What about you, Commander?" the Knight-Captain asks with concern.

"I'm going up to the battlements," I respond. "_Someone_ up there must know what happened."

Up in the battlements, surrounding a large rift that Clarel had opened for the now discarded ritual, the battle continues. I quickly join the Wardens who had allied themselves with our forces and the surviving members of the Inquisition in fighting off the demons that continue to spawn from the rift.

"There's no end to them!" one of the Wardens yells out as he pulls his sword out of a shade.

I focus on the demon before me, ignoring the stabbing pain in my thigh as I swing my sword at it, stepping back to evade its lashing arms. I am practically inches away from the rift when three—no, _four_ figures fly out of it, a few inches shy of slamming right against me. I thrust my blade deep into the shade and twist it, roaring in my effort as I pull it back out, my chest heaving as I breathe heavily.

"Maker's breath!" I gasp, turning to see Cassandra, Solas, Cole and Alistair lying flat on the ground behind me. I immediately run up to them to offer my assistance. "Are you all right?"

Cassandra is the first to get up, her eyes focused on the rift behind me. She ignores me and the surrounding battle and pushes past, stumbling towards the rift, her balance slightly off.

"Where is she?" she asks, staring through the rift. She turns around and glares at Alistair. "Where is the Inquisitor?"

"I—I don't know," Alistair responds, his eyes filled with fear as he too stares into the confines of the rift. "She was right behind me when I left..."

"Hawke isn't here, either," Solas shouts out after setting fire to a wisp.

"Cassandra," I stare at the Seeker, desperate to make sense of the situation.

She turns to me, her glare slowly getting replaced with a sadness I had never seen in her eyes before.

"Cullen, I-"

"Step away!" Solas suddenly yells at us. I instinctively throw myself at Cassandra and force her down against the bloodied stone floor, my body shielding her from whatever it is that Solas warned us about.

I look up when I hear a collective gasp from the warriors, and I almost cry out in relief when I see Evelyn standing a few paces away from me, her face contorted with fury. She holds out her left hand and swiftly finishes off the few remaining demons before sealing the rift.

"Thank the Maker," I whisper as I slowly stand up, my bones numb in my blissful relief.

"Inquisitor!" Cassandra runs past me towards Evelyn, and I am struck by how _happy_ the Seeker is to see that the Inquisitor is alive. "Thank the Maker! I thought you were-" She pauses, her smile quickly fading as she looks around.

"Where is the Champion?" she asks. "Hawke is not with us."

I feel my throat constrict when I see the distraught look on Evelyn's face. Her expression was enough of an answer.

"Hawke sacrificed her life to save us and strike a decisive blow against Corypheus," she announces, her voice marred with anger and grief.

Cassandra closes her eyes and looks down as she slowly shakes her head.

"The Champion is gone," she says, the pain in her voice matched by her grief-stricken expression.

Evelyn morosely regards Cassandra before steeling herself and looking up at the Wardens surrounding us.

"Hawke gave her life not because she swore an oath or was marked as special, but because _someone_ had to do it. She died a hero. Without her, none of us would be standing here alive."

She stares out at the sea of faces before her, allowing her words to sink in and take effect. Finally, she meets my gaze, and I give her a small, encouraging smile, earning myself a curt nod in response.

She decides to ally with the wardens, much to the chagrin of our companions. I, on the other hand, agree with her reasoning, namely that, if this were to evolve into a blight and if the dragon was truly an archdemon, banishing the wardens from southern Thedas would be a risk she is not willing to take.

I watch her as she finalises the alliance with Alistair, who is now the senior-most warden among the group now that Clarel is no longer with us. Once the arrangements are settled, she looks around, only stopping when she sees me waiting for her by a supply cache. She hastily rushes towards me, and I limp to meet her halfway, taking her in my arms and holding her tight, fervently thanking the Maker and his mercy repeatedly.

"You're alive," I whisper into her hair, my eyes squeezed shut as I breathe her in. "I thought I lost you. _Maker_, I thought I..."

I gaze down at her face, losing my voice as a wave of emotion overcomes me.

"You're very pale," she remarks. "Were you wounded?"

I look down at my thigh and notice the heavy flow of fresh blood painting my skin a deep crimson.

"Maker's breath!" she exclaims. "Cullen! Why didn't you wrap it? Sit down!"

"It's nothing, Evelyn. My men needed the bandages more than I did. I'll be-"

"Would you please just sit down?" she insists impatiently.

I sigh and smile as I take the stool next to the supply cache. Transfixed, I watch as she brings her hands to the wound and heals it with her magic, barely paying attention to what she is doing as I smile at the concentration etched onto her stunning features. So lost I am in my relief that I don't even hear the question she repeatedly asks me.

"Cullen?"

"Hmm?"

I blink and focus my attention on her words.

"I was asking you about Erimond," she says. "Your men tell me you have him under custody for interrogation?"

"Yes," I nod, my demeanour instantly professional. "We found him alive. He offered a lot of resistance, but it was nothing my men could not handle."

"Good," she nods and focuses her attention back on the wound. I follow her gaze, and my eyebrows rise high in surprise when I see the scar that now runs across my skin where it had been slashed open.

"How does that feel?" she asks, her eyes flitting up to mine. "Does it hurt?"

I bring my hand to her face and cradle it, my thumb caressing her cheekbone.

"Not at all," I smile warmly. "Thank you."

"Inquisitor! Commander!" Cassandra calls out from a distance.

"We'd better get going," Evelyn says, wincing as she stands up. "I've had enough of this place to last an entire lifetime."

"You and I both," I reply darkly, my eyes scanning the destructed fortress. "We lost a lot of good men and women here today."

"Yes," Evelyn nods, her eyes hard as she surveys the damage. "We did."

Her eyes linger on the area that housed the rift before she had sealed it, the sadness that she fought to hide as she addressed the wardens now slipping through.

"Come on," she says as she tears her gaze away from the spot. "Let's go."

* * *

><p><em>"Ashes we were, and ashes we become. Maker, guide her to a place at your side. Let us take comfort in the peace she has found in eternity."<em>

I silently stand by the door of the make-shift Chantry we had set up in Skyhold, my eyes downcast as I listen to the Inquisitor's solemn prayer.

She is not yet aware I am there. At least, I do not think she is. I had been searching for her, and Lady Morrigan was kind enough to point out her location for me.

She finishes her prayer, but she does not move from her place before the altar. I initially plan to wait without interrupting her, but the stifled sob that slips through her lips strikes me hard, compelling me to slowly approach her.

"Evelyn?"

She turns around and looks up at me, her face tear-stricken. Startled, I rush to her side, kneeling down on my knees beside her and taking her into my arms. She stops holding back, her pained sobs pouring out heavily onto my shoulder.

"It's all right," I whisper, lightly rocking her back and forth. I close my eyes, fighting against the strong emotions that rush through me.

I had never seen her cry before.

To see her in so much _pain_...

_Maker_.

I silently hold her, allowing her to let it all out without interruption.

"Varric," she sobs heavily against my shoulder. "I j-just told him. I just t-told him his friend is _dead_, Cullen. Hawke is _dead_."

Her sobbing intensifies, and I feel my arms tremble as they tighten around her heaving frame.

I have never felt so entirely _helpless_.

It's... Maker, I _can't_.

I did not expect her to be so affected by the Champion's death. She did not know her very long, after all. However, having been on good terms with her during the decade I spent in Kirkwall, it is not surprising for someone such as Hawke to have such a profound effect on people. She certainly made quite an impact on me when I first met her all those years ago.

She will be greatly missed. By all who were fortunate enough to know her.

"I'm sorry," Evelyn sniffs and looks up at me. "I... I didn't mean for you to see me like this."

"There is nothing to apologise for," I tell her gently, wiping the tears away from her cheeks. "Hawke is- _was_- very special. To all of us."

She blinks up at me, the droplets of tears clinging onto her wet lashes glinting in the candlelight.

"It's just so hard to _believe_, you know?" she whispers, her voice trembling.

"I know," I nod as I stroke her hair.

She shakes her head as she stares straight ahead at my chest.

"The _look_ on Varric's face when I told him," she continues. "I couldn't. I just..."

Her chin trembles, a fresh stream of tears threatening to well up in her bloodshot eyes.

"Varric will be all right," I assure her, taking her back in an embrace. I kiss the top of her head, keeping my lips pressed against her.

She exhales loudly and nestles her head against the fur on my chest, her arms tightening around me.

"Thank you," she says.

I smile against her hair, feeling her heart beating against my chest.

"I'm here for you, Evelyn," I murmur. "Always."

She shifts and looks up at me, smiling weakly before gently bringing my face down to hers for a kiss.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," she whispers, her hands trembling on either side of my face.

I hold her gaze intently, the emotion boiling within me threatening to spill over.

"You need never know," I promise.

* * *

><p>Kinda used this chapter to vent the grief I felt over sacrificing my Hawke to save Alistair (because ALISTAIR, okay? Fucking hardest decision in existence. What the fuck, bioware?)<p> 


	21. Alive

**NSFW** towards the end!

* * *

><p>"Marcus! Is that how you perform a shield bash?"<p>

"I—n-no, Commander!"

"Then do it properly!"

_Maker's breath_.

This is _ridiculous_.

"New recruits?"

I look up to see Alistair approaching me in the sparring ground, the sun reflecting against his Silverite armour almost blinding me in its brilliance.

"Yes," I nod, turning my attention back to the trainees. "We're practically receiving them on a daily basis now."

"That's good," Alistair folds his arms across his chest, his amber eyes surveying the troops. "You've done a good job with them, Cullen. Your men fought valiantly at Adamant."

I shoot him a momentary side-glance before I nod curtly.

"Thank you," I reply.

He's... changed since I last saw him in the Ferelden Circle. And I don't just mean physically—we were but young men back then, barely out of our teenage years, so a considerable physical change is only natural.

It is his character that I am referring to.

Even in the Circle, when we were surrounded by death and chaos, I distinctly recall being quite infuriated by how... _easily_ he seemed to be taking things. Nothing seemed to phase him. He was witty and snarky, constantly making light of such a terrible situation.

I now understand that that was his own way of dealing with the horrors that he constantly faced during the blight.

And, I must admit that part of the bitterness I felt towards him was caused by some jealousy on my part; there I was, enraged and broken by the demons and abominations, and there _he_ was, acting as though it was just another day in the life, dealing with the situation as best he could.

I wished I was as strong as him.

And I envied him for it.

But now...

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

His eyes flit away from the recruits towards me.

"The Calling isn't going crazy anymore, if that's what you're asking," he replies dryly. Snarky as his response was, the exhaustion in his voice overshadows it, reflecting the weariness that seems to be permanently etched onto his features. "We take our victories where we can, I suppose."

I feel a smile tug at the corner of my lips.

"Yourself?" he asks after a brief silence. "I heard you've been off lyrium for a while. I'm amazed you're still alive, quite frankly."

I let out a dark laugh.

"You and I both," I say. I pause as a thought occurs to me. "You were a Templar as well, weren't you? Before you became a Warden?"

"Not exactly," he responds, his eyes moving back to the sparring. "I trained as a Templar, but I never actually took my vows. Duncan—the senior Grey Warden in Ferelden at the time- recruited me before that."

"Oh," I nod once. "That's... quite fortunate."

"Oh, I wouldn't go _that_ far," he sneers at me. "Having darkspawn blood slowly poison you to death does have its drawbacks."

I blink at him, feeling incredibly stupid.

"Forgive me," I quickly respond. "I hadn't considered-"

"It's all right," he smiles, but only briefly before a dark expression settles on his face. "I've seen what lyrium withdrawal does to the Templars. In a way, it isn't that different to what the taint does to us towards the end."

I stare at him as he continues to watch the troops, and my thoughts instantly jump to the Hero of Ferelden.

His wife now, I've heard.

It truly is incredible how _small_ the world is.

"How's...ah..."

_Maker's breath, how do I refer to her?_

_Amell? _

_Except, she isn't an Amell anymore, is she? She's a Theirin now._

_The Hero of Ferelden?_

_Simply 'the Hero'?_

"Solona?" Alistair asks with raised brows.

_Solona_.

It's been _years_ since I've heard that name said out loud.

How she would haunt my thoughts as a young man...

"Yes," I reply awkwardly. "How—how is she?"

The darkness in his expression is immediately replaced by a soft wistfulness.

"She... she left before all this began," he murmurs with an incredible tenderness. "Like I said, we Wardens... we don't live that long. After defeating the archdemon, however, we discovered that not everything is as set in stone as we thought. So, she's searching for a way to end the curse. For us both. Maybe for us all."

He pauses, the faint hint of a small, melancholy smile spreading across his lips as he thinks of her.

"She was going to stay to help," he continues. "But we had a lead that couldn't wait. One of us had to go."

He stares off into the distance, and the longing I see in his face makes me feel guilty for bringing her up.

The _love _this man so evidently has for her...

I have never felt so much admiration and respect for Alistair as I do now. And I mean that in a personal sense; I have always respected his accomplishments and abilities as a Grey Warden, of course.

The Warden is an incredible woman. She always has been, even back in the Circle. And if anyone is worthy of her and her love, it is the man standing beside me.

"Has it been long since you last heard from her?" I ask.

He blinks and looks at me, my question rousing him from his reverie.

"The Inquisitor passed on a note when she received a letter from her last week," he responds. "She might be onto something. There's danger, of course, but there's always danger." He takes a deep breath, and when he continues, his voice breaks with emotion. "Hearing from her again... Maker's breath, but I do miss that woman."

He clears his throat and swallows, rapidly blinking his eyes as he looks away from me.

"You're a lucky man," I tell him with a small smile.

"Indeed I am," he replies. He looks at me, amusement playing in his kind, yet weary eyes. "As are you."

I raise my brow, instantly feeling flustered.

"Your Inquisitor... she's quite a woman, isn't she?" he smiles.

"I- yes," I reply, smiling fondly as her face swims before my mind's eye. "She certainly is."

"You there!" one of my lieutenants shouts at a recruit and directs our attention towards him. "Watch where you're pointing that weapon! You'll poke someone's eye out!"

A brief silence ensues as we watch the continued sparring, which I am pleased to say has already improved significantly since earlier this morning.

"You knew her, didn't you?" Alistair suddenly asks.

"Pardon?"

"Solona... you were a Templar at Ferelden's Circle," he clarifies. "She spoke of you the day we stopped Uldred. She was... concerned."

My features harden as the memory of that dark time crosses my mind.

"I would be dead or mad if not for her," I murmur. I close my eyes and shake my head as I remember the inexcusable way I spoke to her that day. "I was in a sorry state when you found me," I lament. "The things I said were... unkind. Untoward. I regret them now. I...I wish she knew that."

I look up when I feel Alistair gently place his hand on my shoulder.

"She does," he tells me gravely. "She knew you were not yourself that day. How could you be, with all the horror you'd been through? She always spoke highly of you, Cullen. Even after what happened. I doubt she would have expressed concern over you if she felt otherwise."

I gaze at him, a wave of relief washing over me.

"Thank you," I reply gratefully. "That... that means more to me than you know."

He smiles and nods.

"Is it lunch time yet?" he asks in a lighthearted manner, looking up at the fortress. "I have such a hankering for some cheese!"

I chuckle as I look back at my troops, my spirits feeling considerably higher. So high, in fact, that I almost forget to chastise a recruit for dropping his shield (again).

_Almost_.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry."<p>

I look up and meet Leliana's sad gaze, my grip tightening around the elaborately designed silver scroll holder she has just handed to me.

"As am I," I murmur.

She sighs, her gaze lingering on the scroll holder in my gloved hand. Then, after a solemn nod, she gracefully slips through the door, leaving me alone in my dimly lit office.

I let out a long breath, looking back down at the scroll holder. Hesitantly, I open it and pull out the rolled scroll housed within it, my hands slightly trembling. My throat constricts and my jaw tenses as my eyes slowly take in the names of every member of the Inquisition who has lost their life in the siege of Adamant.

I stare at the names for the longest time, numb in my grief, uncertain of whether a minute or an hour had passed. I only look up when the sound of my office door slowly creaking open rouses me.

"I thought you'd still be awake," Evelyn smiles as she softly shuts the door behind her.

I smile weakly and set down the scroll as she approaches me. I push my chair back to give her enough space to take her usual seat on my lap, instantly wrapping my arms around her and burying my face in her hair before our lips meet in a kiss.

"What were you reading?" she asks, her fingers gently gliding through my curls.

I sigh and close my eyes, allowing her soothing touch to relax me.

"The names of those we lost in Adamant," I reply morosely.

I feel her shift as she leans over to take the scroll in her hands. She is silent for a quite a while as her eyes slowly scan the list, and I open my eyes just in time to see the tears brimming in her own.

"So many lives..." she whispers, staring blankly at the scroll. I gently take the scroll from her hand and set it back on the desk before placing my fingers beneath her chin and tilting her face towards me.

"They did not die in vain, Evelyn," I tell her.

She closes her eyes and rests her forehead against mine, taking in a deep, long breath.

"I know," she replies curtly. "Corypheus will pay for what he's done."

I place my hands on either side of her face and kiss her forehead.

"I just came back from a drink with Varric," she says quietly. "He told me he wrote to Fenris, Hawke's lover. You know him, don't you?"

"I do," I nod. "Our paths regularly crossed in Kirkwall. He and Hawke were incredibly close, from what I recall."

"From what Varric and Hawke told me about him..." she looks down at my chest plate, her lips pressed into a grim line. "Varric doesn't think he'll make it."

"What do you mean?"

She looks back up at me, her expression pained.

"When Varric first introduced us, Hawke told me something that really... struck me."

"What is it?" I brush the hair away from her eyes.

She silently observes my face for a moment before responding.

"When I asked Hawke why she was alone, she told me that she didn't want to risk bringing Fenris along. Because... because she believed he would kill himself to save her. And I know that that is something lovers regularly say, but after what Varric told me this evening... Hawke meant it quite literally. She was everything to Fenris. He literally had nothing—_nothing_- before he met her. And now..." her voice breaks as the tears roll down her cheeks. "He lost her. The _one_ person who ever mattered to him... is gone."

She does not break down like in the Chantry. The tears are silent this time. I stare at her, watching her fight against the fresh tears that are threatening to spill from her eyes before I hold her against me in a tight embrace.

"It made me realise how easily we can lose the ones we love," she continues in a whisper. "It made me realise that I want to spend every living moment with you, Cullen. While I still can."

A strange, strangled sound escapes my throat, akin to a stifled sob, and I close my eyes tight, holding her even closer against me. She shifts in my embrace to look at me, and I cradle her face in my hands and kiss her with an overwhelming urgency.

"I love you." The words fall out of my lips instinctively, without any forethought. She stands up and takes my hand in hers, guiding me to the ladder leading up to my quarters. As soon as we reach the landing, our hands impatiently start to undress one another, our mouths colliding in a ravenous kiss.

Once free of all clothing, I carry her in my arms and gently lay her down on my bed, my lips immediately moving across her skin, kissing and tasting every inch of her. I plant a trail of kisses down her stomach, burying my face between her legs. I cover her with my mouth and glide my tongue against her, my eyes intently fixed on her face as I hold on to her even when she screams and bucks beneath me.

Still trembling from her rapture, she impatiently pulls me up, and I allow her to take over, handing her complete control. She thrusts me onto my back and kisses beneath my jaw, making me whimper as I feel her tongue against my skin. She glides her tongue down my body, and I let out a loud gasp when she takes me in her hot mouth, my fingers grasping desperately at the bed sheets beneath me.

I lift my head up to look at her, my groaning intensifying as I watch her slowly and deliberately slide her tongue along my length, her eyes fixed on mine.

"_Maker_..." I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip, my body trembling.

She slides her mouth away when she senses the tension building up in me, and I sit up as she crawls up and straddles me, swiftly covering her breasts with my mouth. She runs her fingers through my hair, clutching it tightly when she feels me slowly slide into her, a long, shuddering moan escaping her as I fill her completely.

There is an urgency to our love making that is foreign to us both. Tonight, more than ever, we insist on holding each others gaze, desperately holding on to one another, almost as though one of us is in danger of disappearing if either of us dared to let go. Breathless, I tell her that I love her, over and over again, even as she clenches around me and yells out my name, until ecstasy overpowers my senses and robs me of the ability to speak.

I fall back onto my pillow, panting, my arms shaking as they curl around her when she slumps over me. She rests her forehead against mine, her breath cool against the heat of my face. I kiss her softly before she slides off me and rests on her back, staring up at the star-speckled night sky peeking at us through the broken roof beams.

"You know," she says as she studies the stars. "I used to think the Anchor was a curse. But lately, I've started seeing it as a blessing, and not just because it is the key to stopping Corypheus."

I shift to my side and face her, bringing my hand to her hair.

"Why, then?" I ask, running my fingers through her dark locks.

She smiles and turns her gaze away from the starts to meet mine.

"Because it led me to you."

And once again, I am struck speechless by her. I respond by shifting my face closer to her and kissing her, slowly and gently, relishing the feel and taste of her lips against mine.

But as she sighs and nestles her head against my chest, a troubling thought latches itself into my mind, depriving me of the bliss that normally elates me in her presence.

_She_ could have easily been the one to stay behind in the fade, forever lost to me.

As Hawke is now forever lost to Fenris.

But, whether it is through luck or a direct blessing from the Maker himself, she is right here, held in my arms, her warm body draped around mine.

_Alive_.

And I know that it is selfish, I know that it is untoward and wrong, but I cannot help but thank the Maker with all the fervor I can muster that _she_ was the one he chose to spare that day.

* * *

><p><strong>Note<strong>: to all those who despise female Amell's default first name, my apologies! i just had to use it in the interest of keeping the story easy to relate to by you guys, since we all obviously don't have the same first names for our wardens. same deal with 'Evelyn'. that isn't actually the name i used in-game. it's just weird, using a custom first name in fanfics. or maybe it's just me?


	22. Silk

_Very _**NSFW** towards the end, people. Cullen has _really _built up his confidence in the bedroom since desk sex night. You have been warned!

* * *

><p>It's wobbling.<p>

Why is it wobbling?

It's never wobbled before.

Frustrated and perplexed, I stand up and walk around my desk, eyes surveying every inch of it like a hawk.

Why is this stupid piece of wood wobbling?!

It _never_ wobbles!

It didn't even wobble when Evelyn and I literally rocked back and forth over it with the full weight of our bodies combined!

Muttering profanities under my breath, I duck down beside each leg and examine it with pinpoint precision.

"Is something wrong, Ser?" the courier waiting in my office asks me.

"The desk," I growl from the floor. "It isn't steady anymore. Something's wrong with it!"

"Uhh... maybe one of the legs have chipped? Or-"

"No," I shake my head as I lay flat on my stomach and peer beneath it. I glower when I don't notice anything out of the ordinary and stand up. "I know Sera was in here, and when I find out what she's done, I will—d-do something back!"

The courier stares at me, and I can see that she's fighting hard to keep a straight face.

"Of course, Ser," she smiles. "About the biscuits... Ambassador Montilyet would once again like to know whether they were to your liking, Ser."

"What, _again_?" I ask with incredulity. I roll my eyes and sigh as I rub the back of my neck, my eyes moving to the nearly empty box of biscuits sitting on my desk. "Tell Josephine they're _fine_. And I _like_ them. She can stop asking."

"She will be pleased," the courier smiles and leaves my office.

I turn my attention back to the desk. Hesitantly, I take my seat behind it and slowly place my hands on the surface. Much to my chagrin, it _wobbles_.

_How infuriating!_

_Maker, I can't work like this-_

"Cullen!"

My officer door flies open, causing me to jump out of my seat as though electrocuted. The sudden movement sends my ink bottle flying off the wonky desk and smashing against the stone floor.

"Evelyn!" I stare at her horrified expression and immediately rush around the desk towards where she stood. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"You have to come with me!" she insists, taking my hand and yanking me out of my office. "There's no time to explain!"

"What? Why? What's happened?" I ask in bewilderment as she drags me across the battlements.

"Come on!" she forcefully yanks at my hand, ignoring my question.

It does not take me long to realise that she is leading me to the tavern.

_Maker, has Iron Bull sat on somebody and accidentally killed them in the process? Or has Sera set something on fire?_

_Sera._

_It must be that trouble-making little-_

"Evelyn-"

Evelyn kicks open the door leading to the upper levels of the tavern, where Cole can usually be found.

I can't see Cole, however.

In fact, I can't see _anything_.

"What's happened to the lights?" I ask as I blindly follow her down the stairs towards the tavern. She conjures a little flame in her free palm, bright enough to illuminate our path, but not our surroundings. "Why is it so silent? Maker's breath, Evelyn, if you would just-"

"SURPRISE!"

As soon as we arrive at the tavern landing, flames magically burst into life on all candles and the fireplace, revealing what must be the entire Inquisition gathered around the centre, wide grins plastered onto their faces.

_Wait.._.

_What in the Maker's name is going on here?!_

"What-"

Evelyn stops me short when she presses her lips against mine, kissing me sweetly.

"Happy birthday," she murmurs, her warm eyes gazing happily up at me.

I blink.

_Birthday?_

Wait... _is_ it my birthday?

"You look confused," she chuckles.

"I-"

"Oh, _come on_, Curly, don't tell me you actually forgot!" Varric chides. His sneer fades when I respond with nothing but a blank expression on my face. "Andraste's tits, you actually _did_ forget!"

I rub my neck awkwardly as the rest of the group laughs.

Including _Cassandra_.

"Well, don't just _stand_ there, come on!" Evelyn takes my hand and pulls me to the many tables placed side by side to form one, long one right in the centre of the tavern floor. Cheerful music permeates the air, and the usual solemn mood of the tavern is replaced with an undeniable cheerfulness.

"Happy birthday, Cullen," Josephine smiles and plants a soft kiss on my cheek.

"Thank you," I reply as I allow Evelyn to push me down into a chair.

"Happy birthday, Culley wulley," Sera coos mockingly, earning herself an exaggerated eye-roll from yours truly.

Almost every inch of the tables are filled with freshly cooked and baked dishes, both savoury and sweet. My mouth waters just at the _sight_ of them, never mind the delicious scents wafting into my nostrils.

"How old is our strapping Commander today, hmm?" Dorian asks as he takes a seat opposite me.

"Thirty," Leliana responds before I even open my mouth. Everyone looks around at her and stares before a loud chorus of laughter erupts at her blushing face.

"Sorry," she smiles sheepishly at me. "It's a habit."

"Cullen, have a piece of that pie," Josephine urges me. "It is Ferelden. I had the caterers bring in the cook all the way from Denerim palace."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise, smiling when Evelyn starts chuckling beside me.

"Ferelden _pie_, you say?" Alistair rubs his hands together as his eyes sweep around the table. "Have I mentioned that the darkspawn taint makes us Grey Wardens ravenous? Yes? No? Well now you know! Could you pass the cheese platter, please?"

"Inquisitor, you should have had him change into the Orlesian coat I gifted him!" Josephine chides as she picks up her cutlery.

"Yes, because it would have made all the sense in the world to insist that he puts on his fancy coat during what was supposed to be a catastrophic emergency," Evelyn sneers dryly.

I laugh heartily at her heavy dose of sarcasm.

"That was marvelous acting on your part, by the way," I smile at her.

"What can I say?" she grins. "As Dorian so aptly puts it, I am a woman of many talents."

"You most certainly are!" Dorian winks from across the table.

"Josephine, dear, is that Orlesian white wine by any chance?" Vivienne asks, craning her neck to get a better view of the bottle before the Ambassador.

"White _wine_?" Iron Bull scoffs as though it were the most incredulous thing he'd ever heard. "Who drinks white wine when there's Maraas-Lok?" he roars the Qunari alcohol's name, takes a swig of it to emphasise his point.

"_I_ do, dear," Vivienne responds calmly.

"Yes, ma'am," he nods respectfully.

"How are you feeling, Cole?" Solas asks with a kind smile.

"You should not encourage that _thing_," Vivienne snaps in disgust.

"Solas is not a thing," Cole responds defensively.

"Well said," Solas grins.

"There is no hurt to heal," Cole responds to Solas' original question. "Everyone is happy, joyful, full of light. It is _good_."

"_You're_ good, Kid," Varric smiles and gently pats him on the back. "Oh, and Seeker?"

"Yes, Varric?" Cassandra raises a dark eyebrow.

"I'm halfway through writing the next chapter of Swords and Shields," he smirks. "Figured I'd keep writing it after all, seeing as you're such a big-"

"If you know what is good for you, dwarf, you will stop talking this _instant_," Cassandra hisses at him from across the table, her eyes glaring dangerously.

"All right, all right," he chuckles and raises his palms up in surrender. "We don't want to ruin Curly's birthday with unnecessary bloodshed, Seeker."

"Urgh," Cassandra rolls her eyes and takes a swig of ale. A few moments later, I notice out of the corner of my eye that she is watching me closely.

"How are you feeling, Commander?" she asks. Her question catches Evelyn's attention, distracting her from her animated chat with Dorian about some cryptic mage...things that had my head spinning.

I look up from my plate and swallow the food in my mouth before responding.

"Fine," I tell her.

She appraises me silently for a brief moment before nodding and turning away.

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips when I feel Evelyn slide her hand onto my thigh beneath the table. I glance at her, and she smiles reassuringly at me as she briefly massages me in the area.

"Time for the Commander to open his gifts!" Leliana announced over the chatter and music.

"Gifts?" I repeat.

"Of course!" she exclaims. "It wouldn't be a birthday party without gifts!"

"Oh, don't look so shocked," Dorian chides as he gets up to retrieve his present. I hadn't noticed that there was a table in the corner laden with wrapped parcels.

Stunned, I meet Evelyn's gaze, and she laughs when she sees the expression on my face.

"Oh Maker, you look adorable," she teases. My face flushes under her gaze, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

One by one, gifts of various shapes and sizes are handed to me. Varric's is the latest chapter of _Hard in Hightown_, a series that I am unabashedly devoted to. In my spare time, of course.

"Not available in the mass market yet, Curly," he tells me. "Printed especially for you to occupy yourself in bed when her Inquisitorialness is away fighting demons and shit."

I purse my lips at his comment, but Evelyn's giggle softens my features into a smile.

Dorian also gifts me a book, but, unlike Varric's, his is a book that colours my face a very deep shade of crimson and makes my eyes widen in shock as they gloss over the title.

_Magic in The Bedroom: A Man's Guide to the Mastery of the Female Body._

I stare at it, vaguely aware of my jaw falling ajar.

"You'll thank me later," Dorian winks confidently. "_Trust_ me."

I quickly set it aside, desperate to avoid Evelyn's gaze in my sheer embarrassment at the entire situation.

"My gift is sitting upstairs in your quarters," Josephine says in mock disapproval. "No doubt hanging miserably in your closet."

"My apologies, my lady," I smirk and bow my head. "And thank you again. It is a lovely coat. And in case you need to be told again, I _like_ the biscuits."

"You like them? Truly? It's just butter and sugar," she shakes her head in disbelief. "Fereldan taste is so... _simple_."

I laugh heartily, earning myself a gentle squeeze of the hand from Evelyn.

Cassandra gifts me a brand new set of silverite armour, which is waiting for me in the armoury. Sera, who is already blind drunk and impossibly incoherent, mentions something about a 'surprise tattoo' and 'bloody birds' ruining it for her. I honestly have no idea what that elf is raving on about, and frankly, I don't really want to know either. Alistair gives me a brand new and very finely made dwarven sword sheath, and from Vivienne, an extravagant pair of a tailored waistcoat and breeches ("a man in such a position of power must set an example for the people, my dear").

"Cole, it's your turn," Solas prompts the young man gently.

"Now _this_, I have to see," Dorian says, perking up in interest.

Cole slowly approaches me, holding an envelope in his hand. Shooting him a curious look, I take the envelope from his hands and open it. I pull out a folded piece of parchment and glance up at him.

"Is it all right if I opened it here?" I ask him gently.

"Yes," he nods.

I turn my attention back to the parchment and unfold it, Dorian literally climbing over the table to get a better look.

I read it in my mind and stare at it, not really certain what to think.

"I can't see what it-oh, for Andraste's sake, would you just read it out loud?" Dorian asks impatiently.

I glance at Cole, who is calmly looking back at me, showing no signs of discomfort or disapproval at having the message read out loud.

"Uldred marked you, but didn't make you. You stayed you."

I look back up at Cole, refolding the parchment and placing it back in the envelope.

"Thank you, Cole," I smile.

"There's more," he says.

I blink in confusion. I'm quite certain that was all the message said.

"In the envelope," he clarifies. "I put her scent there. You love her scent. It makes you quiet, calm, _happy_."

"Be careful, Commander," Vivienne warns me from the other end of the table. "One can never be too careful with a demon."

I ignore the First Enchanter and tentatively slide my fingers into the envelope again.

There _is_ something else.

It was difficult to detect initially, seeing as my hands are gloved.

It is a lock of brown hair.

A shade of brown that I recognise _instantly_.

"That's my hair," Evelyn voices my thoughts.

Everyone falls silent as they await my reaction.

"You miss her when she's gone, a missing piece in the puzzle, you _long_ to carry a part of her with you, and now you can. I... I thought this would help. Make it easier when she is away."

I turn to look at Evelyn, who is looking up at Cole curiously.

"How did you get this?" she asks him. "Did you cut it off while when I took you along to the Emerald Graves last week?"

"Yes," Cole replies innocently.

"Huh," she sits back and contemplates the matter.

"Well, I erm..." I put the lock back in the envelope and stow it in my pocket, my face growing warm. "I appreciate this, Cole. Thank you."

"That was weird," Bull remarks. Solas quickly shoots him a disapproving glare.

"Oh? And I suppose your gift is much more meaningful than Cole's?" he asks him angrily.

"Meaningful?" Bull scoffs. "More like _useful_. Cullen is a _warrior_. Warriors are _practical_."

"Don't mind him, Cole," Dorian shoots Bull an exasperated glance before smiling at the boy. "He's just being an ass."

Bull ignores his lover and approaches me, handing me a large, tribal-looking axe and quite the elaborate shield.

"Qunari Warlord ax and shield," he tells me. "The shield's from Krem. He's in Haven, though, so..."

I stand up and carefully take the heavy weaponry from him, testing the feel of them in my hands.

"Thank you," I say, admiring the firelight as it dances against the blade. "I've never wielded a Qunari weapon before."

"Well, now you can," he smiles and clumsily heads back to his chair, winking at Leliana before gulping down some more of his potent liquor.

"Solas?" Evelyn smiles. "Your turn."

The elf gracefully stands up and moves around the table to where I sat, a large, flat and square parcel tucked under his arm. He nods at me, his blue eyes stoic, and places it in my hands. It's light, about the same weight as a standard portrait. I carefully unwrap the elegant paper covering it, letting it fall to my feet.

_Maker's breath_.

It _is_ a portrait.

A portrait of Evelyn.

And from the familiar style covering the walls of the Rotunda, it is clear that it was painted by Solas himself.

"You did that, Chuckles?" Varric is the first to break the awestruck silence that has enveloped the tavern.

"I did," Solas nods with a smile, his gaze fixed on me.

I turn to Evelyn, who is just as awestruck as I am.

"Solas..." she whispers, her eyes wide as she takes it all in. "It's _beautiful_."

His smile widens, clearly pleased with our reactions.

"But how did you manage to so _perfectly_ capture my likeness?" Evelyn asks. "I didn't even pose for you!"

"You did not need to," he answers. "I do see you on a daily basis, after all."

I continue to admire the painting long after I thank Solas and watch him in amazement as he returns to his seat.

"Though it cannot compete with Solas' incredible gift, Commander, my gift will be delivered to you in your office tomorrow," Leliana smiles.

"It isn't another nonsense report from Lord such and such, is it?" I smirk wryly.

She lets out a light, melodious laugh and shakes her head, her red hair fluttering lightly around her jaw.

As everyone occupies themselves with more chatter and drink, Evelyn leans over to me, bringing her lips to my ear.

"My gift is in my quarters," she whispers, her sultry voice sending a shiver down my spine and a thrill to my groin. "Wait ten minutes, then come and find me there."

With a sultry smile, she stands up and excuses herself, slipping away before I could even regain my senses.

The sound of my rapid heartbeat quickly drowns out the chatter and laughter around me, and I swallow in anticipation as I sit there and attempt to contain myself.

"I wouldn't keep her waiting long if I were you, Commander," Dorian murmurs over the table, winking when our eyes meet. "I'll make sure the gifts are delivered to your quarters. Now go and _get_ her."

Normally, I would be horrified by the fact that he was privy to our...ahem... _plans_, but in my current dazed state, I hardly flinch. I hastily mumble an excuse and hurry out into the cool night. Most of them are too drunk to even notice our disappearance, honestly.

My blood rushing, I make my way to her quarters, resisting the urge to break into a run. It isn't late enough for the main hall to be void of nobles, but I barely acknowledge the few who are still there, chattering over a glass of wine at the dining tables. I stride towards the door leading to the Inquisitor's quarters with purpose and quickly slip through it. My heart hammering against my chest, I pause before the second door before knocking lightly against it.

There's no response.

I wait for a moment before knocking again, a little louder this time.

Still, no response.

_Maker, has something happened to her?_

Panic quickly overshadows my excitement, and I bring my hand to the door knob, twisting it to the right.

_Unlocked_.

The door creaks slightly as I slowly push it open and poke my head in.

The fire is crackling merrily in the hearth, and there are candles placed in possibly every single corner and hard surface of the room.

"Evelyn?" I call out softly. I tentatively step in, my eyes wide as they search for a sign of her. A faint, sweet floral scent drifts towards me, and I inhale deeply, a smile playing on my lips when I realise that it is perfume.

"I told you to wait ten minutes!" her muffled voice calls out from behind the door leading into her closet.

My eyes flit towards the source of the sound, and I chuckle at the mild exasperation in her voice.

"I apologise," I call out in the direction of the closet. I stop by the bed, my heart skipping when I notice the crimson rose petals strewn haphazardly across the quilt.

"Okay, I'm ready."

I spin around, my jaw falling open when I take in the vision before me.

_Sweet Maker have mercy..._

She smiles at me, dressed in a very... _Maker's breath_, a _very_ revealing undergarment made entirely of what seems to be black silk and lace.

"Speechless, Commander?" she purrs as she slowly advances towards me, her hair flowing down her shoulders. I open my mouth to respond, but no sound emanates.

"You like it?" she asks, stopping just short of where I stood. My eyes sweep over her breasts, pushed up close together and barely concealed behind elaborate lace patterns, then down to her stomach, completely visible behind the mesh material, before they land on her sex, also cleverly concealed with lace. Her long, slender legs are covered in mesh thigh-high stockings held up by a garter belt.

"I think that would be the understatement of the century," I manage to respond, my voice weak in my breathless state.

She giggles, stepping closer to me. She stands on the tips of her toes and touches her lips to mine, teasing me softly. A rough groan escapes my throat, and I lunge forward to claim her mouth with mine, but she steps back, shaking her head as she smiles at me.

"Not so fast," she says, her voice like velvet. She reaches out and slowly starts to undress me, continuing her almost maddening teasing of my lips. A shudder runs through me as she flings my armour and clothing away, bit by bit, in a deliberately slow fashion. She fixes her gaze on me as her hands slide down my chest and to my stomach, where her fingers linger and trace the muscles flexing beneath my skin as I breath fast and hard.

"I'm going to take my time with you tonight," she whispers, her breath hot and moist against my neck.

I gasp when I feel her touch my arousal through the thick fabric of my breeches. I twitch as I restrain myself from thrusting into her hand, and she chuckles under her breath when I let out a stifled groan.

Slowly, her fingers flit to unfasten my breeches and slide into the waist of my briefs, pulling them down simultaneously. Breathing even harder, I stumble as I impatiently step out of them and kick them away, eliciting yet another amused chuckle from her.

Without warning, she wraps her hand around me and strokes gently. I gasp loudly and grip her shoulders, bringing my forehead down against hers.

"You like this?" she asks playfully.

Confident that my moaning is enough of a response, I do not answer her, biting down on my lower lip instead as she increases the pace.

The tension builds up in my groin, hot and searing and verging on _unbearable_. An impatient growl escapes me, and I snake my fingers through her hair and kiss her, the abruptness making her gasp into my mouth. I push her against a wall and move my lips to her jaw, licking the soft skin in between kisses, tasting the perfume she had sprayed on for this occasion.

I move down to her neck, sucking her skin lightly and teasing it with my tongue. She moans my name, and I smile against her as I continue to move down her body with my mouth. I get down on my knees and undo the garter, _slowly_, chuckling when she whimpers impatiently above me.

Two can play at this game.

I bring my fingers to the waistband of her lace undergarment and pull it down, once again employing the maddeningly slow pace she had so cruelly used against me. I deliberately let out a hot breath between her legs, and she spasms, her fingers clutching desperately at my curls for some leverage. She kicks off the undergarment as soon as it reaches her ankles, her breasts, still contained in the tight silk and lace, rising and falling rapidly as she looks down at me, her eyes dark and wild in her desperation.

Keeping my gaze fixed on her, I slide my tongue against her, torturing her with my slow flicks. She trembles against my mouth, her knees buckling beneath her. I curl my hands around her thighs to steady her as I slide my tongue against her again, even slower this time.

"_Cullen_," she almost cries, her grip tightening around my hair.

Ignoring the insistent throbbing between my legs, I push up one of her legs and pin it against the wall, my tongue moving faster now. She bites her lower lip to stifle her cries, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

"_Maker, Cullen_!" she whimpers, opening her eyes as she looks down to watch me.

The visual is the final straw that sends her toppling over the edge, causing her to cry out in pleasure.

I keep pleasuring her as she rides out her waves of rapture, my hands still working to steady her body and hold her up. Once she calms down, I stand up and take her mouth in mine, and, right there against the wall, I slide into her and take her, no longer able to ignore the hot, building need pounding in my groin.

Desperate to reach in even deeper, I place my hands on her bottom and lift her up, making her wrap her legs around my hips. I intertwine my fingers in hers and press our hands against the wall, keeping the other wrapped firmly around her waist, a bead of sweat rolling down my temple.

"_The bed_," she whispers in between kisses. "_Take me to the bed_."

Still buried deep inside her, I immediately oblige and carry her to the bed, gently laying her down on her back and leaning over her, placing most of my body weight on my arms. She squirms and swiftly forces me to my side, rolling over me and pinning me down. Assuming her favourite position, she straddles me and moves her hips fast, gasping and moaning my name and a few blasphemous phrases that would have made me chuckle if I hadn't been so incapacitated.

"_Look at me_," I plead with her when I notice her eyes squeezing shut. "_Please_..."

She leans down and rests her forehead against mine, fighting to keep her eyes open. She opens her mouth as I feel her tighten and spasm around me, and I squeeze her breasts, which I have managed to free from the lace. I lift my head up and take her nipples in my mouth, feeling her breasts vibrate as I hum and groan around them.

When I hear her cries intensifying, I lie back down on my back and plant my hands on either side of her face, bringing her forehead back against mine, determined to watch her as we are both completely consumed by ecstasy. I feel her lips open against mine as she lets out a loud, carnal moan that is quickly matched by my own. She continues to move above me as she rides us through the waves, her pace gradually slowing down until her hips arrive at a halt.

It takes a while for our breathing and heart rate to slow down.

"That was the _best_ gift I have _ever _been given," I exclaim weakly, my fingers trailing over her back as she rests on top of me.

She chuckles and kisses me softly.

"That wasn't the gift, Cullen," she murmurs with a smile.

I stare at her in disbelief.

"You mean there's _more_?" I grin.

She laughs and slides away from me before crawling across the bed to her bedside table. She crawls back and sits over my hips again, holding a small, powder-blue box in her hands.

"Here," she hands the box to me. "Open it."

I give her a curious smile before untying the white ribbon tied around the box. I open it and pull out a locket that appears to be made of white gold. My fingers fumble at the locket's catch for a while before I manage to open it, revealing two oval-shaped portraits on either side of the interior, shaped to fit the exact dimensions of the locket housing them.

They are portraits of us, and the likeness and precision demonstrated in such a small space is beyond brilliance.

"I had two made by an incredible artist in Val Royeaux," she says as she watches me. "I have an identical one. It's silly, I know. I just thought it'd be nice to have while we are apart, since we are apart so oft-"

I sit up and silence her lips with a tender kiss.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice raw with emotion.

She smiles shyly and wraps her arms around my neck, nestling her face in the crook.

"I love you," she whispers.

I close my eyes and hold her tight, the locket still in my hand.

"And I love you," I respond. "More than I-"

My voice breaks, and I exhale as I am overcome with emotion. I shift and tilt her face to look at me.

"You mean _everything_ to me," I tell her. "You _must_ know that."

She smiles as she strokes my cheek.

"I do," she murmurs. I smile back and gently pull her down next to me, cradling her in my arms.

"By the way," she drawls as I close my eyes.

"Hmm?"

"We need to do this wall sex thing more often."

I laugh and kiss the top of her head.

"With _pleasure_," I grin.


	23. Message from The Spire

"Inquisitor?"

_Go away_.

"Uhh... In—Inquisitor?"

_Shut up_.

"Y-Your Worship?"

_Maker's breath_.

I crack open an eye and squint at Evelyn's bedroom door. At first, I thought the knocking was part of a dream, but it seems that I was sadly mistaken.

I glance down at Evelyn, her warm body draped around mine, still fast asleep.

_Maybe if I ignore him, he'll just go away._

I sigh and reject the notion.

My troops don't usually make a habit of knocking on Evelyn's door in the early hours of the morning. This must be important.

Muttering under my breath, I slowly and carefully slide away from Evelyn's embrace and throw my night robe over my naked body. Not a single soul is unaware of our relationship at this point, so I might as well answer the door for her and see what this business is about.

"What is it, James?" I yank open the door and step out, quietly shutting it behind me.

He starts at the sight of me, clearly not expecting his Commander to emerge. In a night robe, no less.

"Commander!" he stammers and stands at attention. "I apologise, Ser, I didn't know-"

I grumble impatiently and wave away his apology.

"What's this about, James? Get on with it. And stand at ease; I'm not in uniform."

He gulps and relaxes his stance.

"Yes, Commander," he says. "Someone—an Avaar, I think, Ser- was camped outside Skyhold and throwing... ah... goats at the fortress, Ser."

I blink rapidly, my brow furrowing in bewilderment.

_I must still be half asleep_.

"Forgive me, James, but I seem to have misheard you," I look at him with a confounded expression. "Did you just say that an _Avaar_ was throwing _goats_ at our walls?"

"Yes, Ser."

"Goats? You're serious?"

"Uhh... yes, Commander" he nods.

I stare at him with a thoroughly baffled expression as I attempt to wrap my head around this... this...whatever this madness is.

"Where? Can I see him from here? Or the goats?"

"No, Commander," Jim shakes his head. "He was at the other side of the fortress."

"Well, is he still there?" I ask impatiently. "When did this happen?"

"Only a while ago, Ser," he responds. "The guards on watch duty on the battlements spotted him."

"And has he been stopped?"

"Yes, Commander. We have him held in the dungeons."

"Maker's breath," I scratch my head, my mind spinning. "All right. Keep him there. I'll inform the Inquisitor as soon as she is awake. Inform the others to await further instructions on the matter. Dismissed."

"Ser!" he salutes, once again disregarding the fact that I am in a night robe, and turns on his heels. Shaking my head in disbelief over the sheer ridiculousness of the matter, I quietly open the door to Evelyn's bedchamber, tip-toeing back to bed when I see that she is still fast asleep.

_Goats. Maker's breath. What's next? Mages and Templars working together?_

_Oh, wait, that's right; That's already happening._

I pull off my robe and slip back in, taking care not to make any sudden movements that might rouse her.

We had quite the..._exhausting _night. She certainly needs her rest after our numerous exertions.

I settle back under the quilt and rest on my side to face her. She shifts, nudging closer to me and draping her arm around my waist and smiles sleepily with closed eyes. I bring my lips to her forehead and kiss her softly.

"You'll never guess what happened this morning," I murmur, my fingers playing through her hair.

"What?" she asks groggily, her eyes still shut.

I bite my lower lip to suppress my laughter as I picture the poor goats being thrown against our walls, but then it all becomes too much and I literally snort right in Evelyn's face.

Her eyes fly open, and she regards me with quite the bemused expression.

"What?" she asks again, impatient this time.

"Maker's breath," I laugh and wipe the tears from my eyes. "I...oh, _Maker_," my voice breaks like a young man going through puberty. "I still can't believe this. All right," I take a deep breath to control myself. "Remember your visit to the Fallow Mire to rescue our soldiers?"

"Yes?"

"You clashed with the Avaar there to set them free, right?"

"Mmm-hmm..."

"Well... I don't know the entire story yet, but one of them was found right outside Skyhold just now. Throwing goats. At the walls."

She blinks at me with a blank expression on her face.

"Am I awake, Cullen?" she asks.

I let out a loud laugh that slightly shakes the bed beneath us.

"Entirely _ridiculous_, isn't it?"

She shakes her head as she rubs her eyes.

"I... I don't even know what to _think_," she says.

"You and I both," I grin and bury my face in her tangled locks. She sighs and leans into me, closing her eyes as I press my lips against her head.

"I need to have this sorted," she mumbles. I pull my lips away from her hair and sit up straight.

"You're right," I sigh. "I'll go down to the dungeons and have my men brief me properly on the situation."

"All right." She glances up at me and caresses my cheekbone before reaching up for a soft kiss. We both slide out of bed and get dressed before sharing one more kiss and parting ways.

"Commander!" she pokes her head out her door and stops me halfway through the staircase leading to the main hall. I stop and turn my head, smiling automatically at the sight of her.

"Goats?" she asks in disbelief.

I laugh again, my voice echoing throughout the staircase.

"Goats," I grin, shaking my head as I pull open the door and step into the hall.

* * *

><p>"Commander Cullen?" a knock emanates from outside my door.<p>

"Come in," I call out as I scribble a signature in my letter to Knight-Captain Rylen in Griffon's Keep.

I look up when the door opens, and my eyes widen in surprise when I see the witty dwarven courier walk in with a bird cage in her hand. I watch in bewilderment as she approaches my desk and carefully sets the cage onto it.

"Is that for me?" I ask, my eyes surveying the very familiar raven with a white feather on its breast housed in the cage.

"A gift from Mistress Nightingale, Ser," she answers.

"What?" I blink. "She's giving me her raven? Why?"

"She said if it's yours, you won't have to 'borrow' it."

"I...I see," I reply, my eyes gazing at the slumbering bird. "Thank you."

"Also, Mistress Nightingale requires your presence in the war room as soon as possible, Ser."

"I will be there at once."

The courier bows her head and walks out, leaving me alone with my new friend.

This was always my favourite raven. It is the only one with the distinctive white feather on its breast, which is why I always choose it to deliver my letters to the Inquisitor when she is away. That way, as soon as she sees it arriving, wherever she may be, she can immediately know that it is carrying a message from me. I carefully pick up the cage and place it in the shade to allow the raven to rest away from the glare of the sun. I then make my way to the war room, humming an old Chantry tune as I stride across the battlements.

The effects of last night's almost relentless love-making haven't worn off yet, it seems.

"Solas," I smile and bow my head as I enter the rotunda and see the elf immersed in his painting.

"Good afternoon, Commander," he nods.

I stop and admire his latest addition to the wall. It is nearly complete—Solas is crouched at the very bottom of the wall now, no longer balancing himself on the scaffolding that I so often see him on.

"Is that a depiction of what happened in Halamshiral?" I ask, gazing up to see the towering figure that is unmistakably the Empress of Orlais.

"Yes," Solas nods, his eyes narrowed as he delicately paints in some detail into the Empress' gown.

"Hmmm. Solas, I'd like to thank you again for your incredible gift last-"

"Why, _hello_ there, Commander."

I look up and see Dorian leaning against the banister surrounding the library, the usual smug grin plastered on his face.

"Dorian," I nod, instantly feeling my face go warm. I hadn't forgotten the little 'words of wisdom' he passed on to me in the tavern last night.

"Did you read the book I gave you? The Inquisitor looked _remarkably_ cheery today." He winks and flashes me a knowing grin.

I glower up at him, the blood rapidly rushing to my face.

"I believe some matters are meant to be private, Dorian," Solas calmly says from behind me, his eyes still fixed on his work.

"Of course they are," Dorian replies. "I was merely inquiring after the quality of my gift. You _are_ going to read it, aren't you, Commander? You won't be able to thank me enough when you do."

"I...need to go," I growl, turning on my heels and heading towards the main hall.

"_Must you always tease everyone you happen upon?_" I hear Solas chastise Dorian as I leave the rotunda.

"_I don't know what you're talking about_," Dorian retorts defiantly.

I shake my head and sigh as I meander my way through the thick sea of nobles and other members of the Inquisition littering the hall. The topic of this morning's Avaar trial is still on everyone's lips. The Inquisitor decided to arm the clan and send them off to Tevinter, since that is apparently what they wanted all along anyway. I was just glad to be rid of them, frankly. We already have enough to contend with as it is without dealing with such ridiculous nonsense.

I pass by Josephine's office, and I am surprised to see that she isn't already in the war room.

"Good afternoon, Cullen," she smiles from her desk.

"Good afternoon. Am I too late?"

She blinks up at me in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"For the meeting," I reply. "Leliana wanted to see us in the war room, didn't she?"

"No...I believe she only requested your presence," she replies.

"Oh. I see. Thank you, Josephine," I smile and continue on my way to the grand double doors, my curiosity growing with each step I take. Josephine is _always_ included in our war room meetings. I push open one of the doors and step in, seeing Leliana leaning over the war table, appearing to be deeply occupied with reading a letter placed over the map.

"Ah, Commander," she says when she sees me. "Thank you for coming. There is a matter I thought you'd be...interested in learning about."

I stride around the table to where she stood, my eyes falling to the letter.

"What is it?" I ask.

She hands me the letter and folds her arms across her chest as she waits for me to read it.

__Commander Cullen,__

__We have not met, but as a former Templar and current Commander of the Inquisition's forces, I am convinced that there is no better person than you to contact about a matter that is of the utmost importance to me.__

__The Inquisitor, Lady Evelyn Trevelyan of the Ostwick Circle of Magi, is a former friend of mine. I am a Templar, and I began my service to the Chantry in the Ostwick Circle several years ago, when the Inquisitor was but a young girl. Ours was a close friendship that spanned across several years, and one that I prized above all others. As the Commander of her forces, I am certain that you are well enough acquainted with her to appreciate what a remarkable woman she is, and I am certain that it will come as no surprise to you to learn that I continue to hold her in the highest of regards to this very day, despite having not heard from her in over five years. I have no reason to believe that I have been at all mentioned by her, but I could not allow that to preclude me from attempting to make contact with her as soon as I had the chance to do so.__

__Allow me to make my intentions clear: I am requesting an opportunity to meet with Her Worship in person. It has been many years since I have last seen her, and given the precarious nature of Thedas' situation and Lady Trevelyan's role in it, I fear that I may not have another chance to speak with her if I delay this any longer.__

__I trust you will understand my situation and will convey my intentions, along with my deepest and most sincere regards to Her Worship.__

__I eagerly await a response from you.__

__Knight-Commander Conrad__

I continue to stare at the letter long after I am done reading it.

"Commander," Leliana's soft voice drifts into my ears, but I barely notice it. I see her slim fingers clasp the letter and gently tug it out of my hands when I do not respond. "Commander," she repeats. I look up at her, blank and silent for a moment before I clear my throat and gather my wits about me.

"Did you know about him?" she asks me gently.

I nod curtly, my jaw tense.

"She told me about him," I say, my eyes drifting back to the letter in Leliana's hands.

"They were close," she says. It wasn't a question.

"They were," I swallow. "Very close. Much more than stated in the letter."

"I suspected as much," Leliana nods. She glances down at the letter before setting it back on the table. "And now, he wants to see her again."

"He does," I nod, staring off into space as a flurry of thoughts start to swirl around in my mind.

Should I respond?

_How_ do I respond?

Do I bring the letter to Evelyn's attention and act from there?

Should I let Evelyn respond instead?

Does he know about the nature of my relationship with Evelyn? Everyone at Halamshiral knew. It certainly would be surprising if the news hadn't traveled to the White Spire by now.

Although, the tone in his letter suggested otherwise. I doubt he would have addressed the letter to me in particular if he knew. If he knows of my position in the Inquisition, surely he is aware of Leliana and Josephine's positions as well? Why didn't he address the letter to them?

"What are you going to do?" Leliana asks, her blue eyes watching me closely.

I rub my neck and let out a breath.

"I...I need to show the letter to the Inquisitor," I respond. "Let her read it for herself. It is her decision, after all."

Leliana nods and picks up the letter. I watch as she carefully folds it and slips it back into its envelope. She stretches out her hand for me to take it, but she does not let go of the letter once my fingers clasp around it.

"You're sure you're all right with this?" she asks softly. "This is your affair too, Cullen. You are not just an unaffected third party as the rest of us are."

"No, this is _her_ affair," I reply curtly. "I have no right to interfere with her past. Her life is hers and hers alone, and I will not step in and dictate what she can and cannot do with it. Even if the consequences do not transpire to be in my favour."

"Understood, Commander," Leliana nods and lets go of the envelope. I keep the envelope in my hands to avoid the chance of creasing or folding it in my pocket.

"Is there anything else?" I ask.

"No," Leliana responds. "That is all, Commander."

I nod and stride to the door.

"Leliana?" I pause with my hand on the door knob.

"Yes?"

I turn and give her a small smile over my shoulder.

"Thank you for the raven," I tell her.

She smiles warmly back at me as she gathers her things from the war table.

"You're most welcome, Commander."

I nod and push open the door, my smile instantly disappearing. I walk back out into the main hall, barely acknowledging Josephine when I pass through her office. Leliana will surely fill her in, in any case.

"Varric," I call out as soon as I see him. He looks up at me as I approach him, the scratching of his quill pausing against the parchment. "Have you seen the Inquisitor?" I ask.

"I think she's talking to Morrigan in the garden," he replies. I notice his brow furrowing in concern as he appraises me. "Is everything okay, Curly? You look kinda pale. Paler than usual, I mean. You're always pale."

"Everything's fine," I reply dismissively. "If you see her, could you please ask her to come to my office?"

"Sure thing, Curly," Varric nods, his eyes lingering on me in concern.

"Thank you," I nod and walk directly to my office, barely seeing the path before me. Once there, I sit down at my desk for a while before grumbling and getting back up in frustration. I start pacing around instead, the tension within me making it impossible to remain stationary. I pause by the narrow window behind my desk every now and then, watching the sun set, it's fading light casting a bright, orange hue into my office.

Finally, I hear the door creak open, and I wheel around to see Evelyn shutting it behind her.

"Hello," she smiles as she approaches me. She places her hands against my chest and kisses me. I kiss her back, the knot of tension around my shoulders and in my gut instantly loosening as I taste and feel her familiar lips against mine.

"Varric said you wanted to see me," she says when she pulls away. "Said you didn't look too happy. What's wrong?" she strokes my hair soothingly, her warm eyes studying me with concern.

I hold her gaze for a few moments before raising up the hand still holding the envelope.

"This is for you," I tell her. I don't smile. In fact, I can almost _feel_ the stoicism that is deeply etched onto my hardened features.

She looks at me quizzically before taking the envelope from my hands, and she does not move her gaze away until the letter is unfolded in her hands.

She quickly looks back up at me after not even a second's passing.

"It's addressed to you," she says with bewilderment.

"Read it," I urge her softly.

Hesitantly, she slides her gaze back down to the letter and reads it. I watch her closely, obsessively studying her every reaction as her eyes move lower and lower down the parchment

I see the confusion at first.

Then, the shock.

And lastly, the little smile on her lips as her eyes gloss over the signature.

Like me, she stares at the letter long after she has finished reading it.

"When did you get this?" she finally looks up at me and asks.

"Just this afternoon," I respond. "Leliana was the one who notified me of it."

She nods, her eyes drifting back to the letter.

"Did either of you respond?" she asks.

"No. I wanted to show it to you first."

She nods again before folding the letter and tucking it into her pocket.

"What do you think I should do?" she asks.

I stare at her, astonished at her question.

"What—what do you mean? This is _your_ decision, Evelyn."

"It is your decision as much as it is mine," she replies simply.

I continue to gape at her, uncertain of what to make of her words.

"Why so surprised?" she folds her arms and asks.

"I..." I rub the back of my neck as I think of a way to phrase my response. "I just... I didn't expect you to..."

"Cullen," she murmurs, stepping closer and placing her palms on either side of my face. "Tell me what you think. I wont make a decision without knowing what you think first. Are _you_ all right with this? With my meeting him in person?"

I blink at her, not really knowing what to say.

_Am_ I all right with this?

Maker, I don't even know the answer myself!

"I... yes," I finally reply, my mind conjuring her smile as she read Ser Conrad's signature. "I am. If that is what you want."

She pauses as she contemplates the answer.

"It is," she finally replies. "He was a good friend to me. I can never forget that."

"All right," I respond immediately in an attempt to mask the inevitable disappointment that floods through me. "You should be the one to respond to his letter. I am certain he would be very pleased by that."

She gives me a small smile before guiding my lips down to hers.

"Thank you, Cullen," she whispers.

I close my eyes and try my best to return her smile.

"I'm going to dinner," she says. "Will you keep me company?"

This time, the smile that spreads across my lips, albeit a weak one, is genuine nonetheless.

"Of course," I murmur. "It would be my pleasure, my lady."


	24. Trust

**NSFW** here and there ;)

* * *

><p>"You haven't eaten a thing. Are you in pain?"<p>

I look away from my gloved hands, which I have been staring at for Maker knows how long, and meet Evelyn's apprehensive gaze.

"No," I give her a weak smile. "I'm just not very hungry. I spent the entire afternoon gorging on Josephine's butter biscuits."

That is an outright lie, of course. But what else could I tell her? That I have entirely lost my appetite because of her previous Templar lover's letter?

It is _pathetic_.

And what is even _more_ pathetic is the fact that I have allowed the matter to have such a profoundly adverse effect on me.

I place my hand on her thigh beneath the dining table and give her a reassuring squeeze before I get up.

"Where are you going?" she asks, her eyebrows rising up in alarm and her fingers curling around my hand. I rub my neck and avoid her gaze as another lie slips through my lips.

"I have a few matters to take care of before bed," I tell her.

She slides her hand up my arm and caresses it gently.

"Can't it wait?" she smiles softly. "I want you with me tonight."

I stare at her, my thoughts suddenly scattered.

"I..."

Maker, who am _I_ to resist _her_?

"All right," I relent with a smile. "I suppose it can."

"Thank you," she purrs and stands up, taking my hand in hers. Ignoring the nobles appraising us with absolute interest, I allow her to lead me to her quarters, my excitement already overshadowing the melancholy that had gripped me since this afternoon's events.

Tonight is a little different.

She is very gentle with me.

Reverent, even.

More so than ever before.

Her every touch is soothing, a light caress against my hot skin. She undresses me and I her, kissing her shoulders when I pull her blouse away and allow it to fall to the floor. Once we are both free of any clothing, she takes my hand and leads me to her bed with a suggestive little smile on her face. She makes me lie down on my back and crawls over me, kissing my lips, my cheeks, my forehead, my chin...almost as though she is... apologising.

Even when she slides down to my hips and takes me in her hot mouth, she does it gently. Her hands snake up my stomach and chest and move around in caressing circles as her tongue slides around the tip and her head slowly moves up and down, and she makes it a point to constantly hold my gaze, even if it proves difficult for me to keep my eyes open and watch as she works her magic (forgive the pun; I couldn't help myself).

But even as I close my eyes and tremble in her mouth, I cannot help but think—in some far and incredibly distant corner of my delirious mind- that somehow, this is an apology.

Or, a _reassurance_, if I were to be more accurate.

A reassurance that, despite agreeing to meet with Conrad, I am still the one she cares about.

A reassurance that I had nothing to worry about.

I would be a fool to believe that she did not see right through my forced smiles this evening. I have always been an open book—my sister Mia can attest to that- so I do not doubt that my resigned and melancholic demeanour has attracted Evelyn's attention, and, consequently, her guilt.

I grasp at the sheets beneath me as I feel the build up of heat and pressure gathering in my groin, and I force my eyes open before I sit up and gently place my trembling hands on her head to make her stop. She slowly releases me, eliciting a low, trembling moan from me as she slowly and deliberately slides her tongue along my entire length before I claim her mouth with mine and pull her up onto me.

If her gentle touch was meant as a reassurance, it worked. When we make love, it is _desperate_.

_I_ am desperate.

I cling on to her as we move in unison, my mouth and tongue tasting the sweat on her skin as they slide over her neck and breasts. I touch her with a reverence, and I whisper her name as though it is a prayer. And when it is over, I lay her on her back and move down to her sex, desperate to please her further and show her that there is _nothing_ to apologise for.

That _nothing_ can and ever will come between us.

As long as she will have me.

* * *

><p>"Cullen?"<p>

"Hmmm?"

She pauses, her fingers absentmindedly dancing across my chest.

"You really don't mind mind?" she asks. "You're certain?"

I look down at her and smile, my fingers running through her hair.

"I'm certain," I murmur.

She tilts her head on my chest and looks up at me, the doubt in her voice reflected in her dark eyes.

"It's just that...when you first told me about the letter...well, ever _since_ you first told me, really... you've just been so...not your usual self, I suppose."

I listen to her silently as I continue caressing her locks. When I do not respond, she swings her leg over my hips, bringing herself to a straddling position above me.

"I don't want anything to come between us," she continues, taking both my hands in hers. "To be honest, I don't even know what Conrad is expecting or hoping to happen by seeing me. As much as I cared for him in the past, it's been long over." She brings my hands up to her lips and kisses them softly. "My heart has been claimed by another Templar. Well, _ex_-Templar, technically. Maker's breath, but I seem to have a fetish for Chantry boys, don't I?"

I let out an exuberant laugh—I remember thinking the exact same thing earlier on in our courtship.

"That you do," I grin.

She releases my hands and starts circling her fingers around my torso again. My eyes drift down to her plump breasts, barely visible in the dim firelight emanating from the hearth behind her, but, knowing all too well how sensitive they are, I restrain myself from cupping them in my hands so as not to interrupt her from her talk.

"In all honesty, though," she proceeds, "If you don't want me to see him alone, just say the word."

I look up at her, marveling at both her beauty and at the words she has just spoken.

"I don't believe Ser Conrad would appreciate my presence, my love," I smile at her and cup the length of her face with my palm.

"That would be pertinent if I cared about what Ser Conrad appreciates more than I care for _you_," she counters. "But I don't."

I sit up and bring my lips between her breasts, closing my eyes as I kiss her softly. She wraps her arms around my neck and rests her head over mine, a soft sigh drifting into my ears.

"You don't have to worry about me, Evelyn," I murmur against her skin. "The man clearly holds you in the highest of regards. I respect your past. I would not think to impede his desire to see you due to my own selfish reasons."

She straightens up and cradles my face in her hands, making me look up at her.

"Tell me," she ponders with a coy smile. "How is it that a perfectly handsome young man like you has managed to remain single for such a long time before now?"

I chuckle and entangle my fingers in her hair.

"Because good things come to those who wait."

She smiles and kisses me, moaning when I slip my tongue into her mouth.

"_Again_, Commander?" she smirks when she feels my arousal beneath her.

"What can I say?" I grin, cupping her breasts with my hands. "You are _impossible_ to resist."

* * *

><p>If I had hoped to get any work done this morning, I was gravely mistaken.<p>

I cannot focus on anything other than this Conrad character's impending arrival this afternoon.

Evelyn responded to him the day after I gave her the letter, which was a little over a week ago. The man wasted no time in sending a hasty response, informing her of the date and time of his arrival in Skyhold.

Evelyn left the letter in my possession after reading it, and I suspect she has done so as a show of her blasé attitude towards the man. As much as I appreciate her good intentions, she has unknowingly done me a disservice; I cannot seem to keep my hands off the damned thing.

I frown as I pick the response from my desk and read over it for what must be the hundredth time.

_My dearest Evelyn,_

_I cannot tell you how delighted I was to receive your letter. There are no words that can adequately convey the depth of my joy at hearing from you again after so long. _

_I must confess I am not quite sure how to address you. While I have no doubt that you are still the same woman I fell in love with as a young man, I find myself at quite a loss regarding the correct and respectful way to address you. Forgive me if referring to you by your given name is too informal; I know all too well that our relationship is not what it once used to be, but in my joy of being in contact with you again, I cannot help but do so. It has been so long since I have been able to speak your name on my lips without fearing for your life._

_I was greatly worried for you at the start of the mage rebellion- all I could think of was your safety, but I could not risk inquiring after you or attempting to contact you if it had even the slightest chance of exposing our relationship and consequently endangering your life and freedom. I could not bear the thought of you being made tranquil, and so I maintained my distance, praying for the day that I might see you again. And now, by a blessing from the Maker himself, it is finally happening._

_I will begin making preparations for my journey to Skyhold at once. Things have calmed down in the White Spire since you have been named Inquisitor, and as such, it is the perfect time for me to make the journey._

_I cannot tell you how much I wish the distance was but a short walk away, but if I can wait five years to hear from you again, I am certain my patience will sustain me these next few days._

_In the meantime, please take care of yourself. And give my sincerest regards to Commander Cullen._

_Yours Faithfully,_

_Conrad Remington_.

I feel my face contort with anger as I glare at the parchment in my hands.

The _gall_ that man has!

Referring to her as his "_dearest_" Evelyn!

Dearest! This from a man who she has not seen or heard from in _five_ years! Five!

Hadn't it occurred to him that such a beautiful, intelligent and quite frankly _perfect_ woman such as Evelyn would not already be involved with someone else? Does he truly think she has been waiting for him as he claims to have been waiting for her?

I growl and throw the letter back onto the desk.

Evelyn has only just returned the previous night from the Exalted Plains, where she went as a personal favour for Solas. Little does she know that I have spent the better part of the last week fuming in private over the contents of that _infuriating_ letter.

"Commander!" a recruit rushes into my office. "He's here, Ser!"

"What?" I look up at the recruit by the door. "Already?"

"Yes, Ser. The scouts have reported seeing him riding in the distance."

"Go and lower the gates," I instruct him as we step out onto the battlements. "I will inform the Inquisitor and bring her there."

"Ser!" the young man salutes and hurries off.

I march towards the main hall, all but ignoring Varric and Blackwalls' greetings when I pass them playing a game of Wicked Grace. I pull open the door leading to Evelyn's quarters and knock on the second.

"Evelyn, it's Cullen," I call out through the door.

"Use your key!" her muffled voice responds. I pull out the spare key she gave me and unlock the door, quickly stepping in and shutting it behind me when I see that she is bathing.

"What is it?" she looks up at me from the bathing tub, which she has placed next to the warmth of the fireplace.

"Your Temp- I mean, Knight-Commander Conrad is here," I respond as calmly as I can.

"What, already?" she asks in alarm, standing up abruptly and sending some water splashing onto the carpet.

"Yes, scouts saw him approaching the fort on horseback. He should be here any moment."

"He's early!" she exclaims, hurrying around in search of something. "Urgh, where is my towel?"

I look around and see it on the floor next to her tub. I pick it up and wrap it around her wet body, and I hastily proceed to wipe her dry. I then move on to help her dress and tie the laces of her boots as she brushes her wet hair.

"Thank you, my love," she smiles gratefully and plants a quick kiss on my lips before rushing off to the door. I follow her and lock her quarters behind us. As we stride through the main hall, she does something that takes me by complete surprise and wraps her arm around mine, pulling me close to her. I look down at her, brow raised, but all she does is smile sweetly in response.

She does not know it, but that little gesture instantly erases all traces of the bitter jealousy that has consumed me since Conrad's letter.

As we descend the stairs leading to the gates, my eyes scan the lower courtyard, eager to catch a glimpse of the man.

"There, that's him," Evelyn murmurs to me, her eyes focused on the gates. I follow her gaze and see a figure decked in very familiar Templar armour, obvious even from a distance.

I stand up taller and tilt up my chin, tightening my arm around Evelyn's. She gently pats my hand with hers, and when I glance down at her, she gives me a reassuring smile.

"By the Maker..." the Templar, who still has his helmet on, reaches up to pull it off. "_Evelyn_?"

He steps forward, staring at Evelyn as though she had just spouted another head.

He seems to be around the same age as I, give or take a few years. He is tall, though not as tall as I am, with brown hair that falls to where his neck meets his shoulders. His complexion is fair, albeit heavily sun-kissed, and it is dusted with a light sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

All in all, I am quite disappointed to say that he is, in fact, what many people would call handsome. Not a surprising fact, seeing as he caught Evelyn's interest.

"Conrad!" Evelyn exclaims, sliding her arm away from me and running into his open arms. My hands curl into hard fists as I watch him bury his face into her hair.

"Let me look at you," he breathes, stepping back and placing both hands on her shoulders. He beams at her, his blue eyes sweeping over her from head to toe. "Maker, you look _radiant_."

"Thank you," she smiles. "You're looking quite well, yourself. _Knight-Commander_," she adds with pride. "I always knew you'd do well, Conrad."

He smiles at her, and I can see from his expression that he is barely able to believe his eyes.

"Conrad, allow me to introduce you to Commander Cullen," Evelyn turns around and walks towards me, slipping her arm back around mine.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Commander," the Templar bows respectfully. "I have heard only great things about you."

"The pleasure is mine," I nod with a polite smile. I can feel Evelyn's gaze on my face, and when I sneak a glance at her, I feel a few feet taller when I see that she is beaming proudly up at me.

I watch as Conrad's eyes shift to our intertwined arms, and the smile on his face suddenly loses its authenticity.

"Conrad, leave your things here. Cullen's men will take them to your quarters in the Guest Wing. It's nearly lunch time. Cullen and I can show you around Skyhold before lunch. We have so much to talk about!"

"I'm afraid I have quite a few things I need to take care of before nightfall, Inquisitor," I respectfully tell her. "Besides, I am certain the Knight-Commander would appreciate having some time alone with you to catch up."

Evelyn looks up at me with a questioning expression.

I nod at her and smile reassuringly, sliding my arm away from hers.

"Thank you, Commander," Conrad nods at me, his blue eyes appraising me closely.

"Cullen..." Evelyn furrows her brow at me.

"It's all right, Evelyn," I assure her in a whisper.

She flashes me an angry frown before turning to Conrad with a forced smile.

"Would you excuse us for a moment, Conrad?" she asks politely.

"Of course," he nods. I can feel his eyes following us as she pulls me out of earshot.

"Cullen, this isn't what we'd agreed to," she hisses at me. "The plan was to have you with me at first to make it very clear to him that we are together!"

"I think you've made it quite clear already," I reply, my eyes flickering towards him briefly.

She lets out an impatient huff and stomps her foot.

"Why are you doing this?" she demands.

"Evelyn," I sigh and look her squarely in the eyes. "I appreciate that the man has traveled a very long way to see you. I... I cannot bring myself to ruin his trip for him. Which my presence certainly will."

She blinks up at me, clearly taken aback by my answer.

"Truly?" she asks.

"Yes," I nod.

She stares at me before lightly shaking her head and smiling.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone as selfless as you are," she murmurs softly. I feel my face turn warm, and I rub the back of my neck under her gaze.

"Go on," I urge her softly. " Don't keep him waiting."

Her smile widens and she nods before walking back to him. I put up my hand towards him as a temporary farewell, and he responds in kind, although he has eyes for no one but Evelyn.

I turn around and walk back to the staircase leading up to the main hall, my heart heavy, but my mind resolute. I am almost by the foot of the stairs when I hear footsteps quickly approaching me from behind. I turn around to see Evelyn, and before I could react, she swiftly drapes her arms around my neck and kisses me tenderly under the dazzling morning sun. Despite my surprise, my arms instantly wrap around her waist and pull her close against me.

"I love you," she whispers before letting me go and striding back to her previous lover. I stare back at her as she walks away, feeling slightly light-headed. Then, as I turn and make my way up the stairs, I run into Alistair, who seems to have been watching this entire scene play out from a distance.

"Who is _that_?" he asks, his amber eyes narrowing as he watches the pair of them.

"An old friend of the Inquisitor's," I reply monotonously.

"Old _friend_, huh?" he folds his arms across his chest and regards them with skepticism. "You're sure about that?"

I sigh and continue my ascent up the stairs.

"I've got work to do, Alistair," I tell him.

"Do you...want to talk about it?" he offers.

I stop and give him a small smile.

"No," I reply. "It's fine. Thank you, all the same."

"Anytime, Cullen," he murmurs, his eyes drifting back to them. "Anytime."

* * *

><p>This is ridiculous.<p>

_I'm_ ridiculous.

I'm driving myself _mad_.

Honestly, I've been locked up in my office the entire day, pacing around like a madman.

Even Snowflake, the raven Leliana gifted me, is appraising me with a weary expression through the bars of her cage.

Instead of having lunch and dinner in the main hall as I usually do, I decided to have my meals with my troops in their living quarters. Not only did being around my men and women make it easier to think less of Evelyn and Conrad and what they might be up to, it was also a great opportunity for me to avoid running into them at the main hall. Not to mention the curious questions and remarks that would surely come my way from the nobles and other members of the Inquisition.

But now, an hour or so after dinner, I am nearly at my wits' end.

Where could they be?

Has he tried anything with her?

Has he _dared_ try?

I shouldn't have avoided them like this. I should have kept an eye on what they were doing.

_No_.

_Listen to yourself, Rutherford._

_Don't you trust her?_

_Maker, what sort of pathetic jealous creature am I turning into?_

I growl and shake my head in frustration as the clock strikes nine. Glancing at the pile of paperwork waiting for me on my desk, I force myself to take my seat behind it and peruse through my reports.

One particular report from Knight-Captain Rylen manages to grab my attention and even bring an amused smile to my face.

_Commander,_

_In response to your previous letter, the Inquisition greatswords seem to work well enough when you hit things with them. Couldn't really think of any other way to test a greatsword. I am open to suggestions, of course._

_Awaiting further orders regarding the darkspawn situation in the Approach._

_Knight-Captain Rylen_.

"Maker's breath."

Rylen's reports always were... odd.

I shake my head and dip my quill into my ink pot.

_Notice to Inquisition soldiers:_

_To assist Dagna and the research team, we will commence observations on the effectiveness of Inquisition greatswords and report them to Dagna. And, no, Rylen,"they work well enough when you hit things with them," is not an acceptable observation. _

_Commander Cullen_.

I can always count on Rylen to brighten up my mood. Not that he does it intentionally. Still, his seemingly relentless sarcasm is always a welcome distraction.

I get up and take the notice in my hands to display it in the soldiers' living quarters. Before I make it to the door, however, it opens slowly, revealing Evelyn as she swiftly slips through.

"Oh," she says when she sees me, leaving the door ajar. "Were you going somewhere, Cullen?"

I stare at her for a moment before responding.

"N-no," I stammer, quickly setting the notice back on my desk. "No, I was just...ah... it can wait."

"Are you sure?" she presses.

"Yes," I nod.

"Good," she smiles and shuts the door behind her. My heart jolts when I hear her lock it securely.

I turn to my desk and shuffle around the papers on it, trying my best to seem aloof and calm.

"So," I start in a casual manner. "How was your day with the Knight-Commander, then?"

"Fine, I suppose," she shrugs. "Showed him around the fortress and we updated each other about our lives. He was very interested in _you_, actually."

I look up from my papers and turn to face her.

"Me?" I ask with confusion.

"Yes," she replies as she reaches her finger into Snowflake's cage and strokes her. "Wanted to know everything about you. I would venture out to say that he was quite _jealous_ of you, in fact."

"Huh," I lean against my desk as I contemplate her words, and I cannot help but feel a little smug.

"Where were you today?" she asks, still kneeling beside Snowflake's cage. "I didn't see you at lunch or dinner. Have you eaten at all?"

"I...had my meals with my troops," I respond, awkwardly rubbing my neck as I turn my back to her and focus on my paperwork again.

"Oh," I hear her say, her voice drawing closer. "That's nice."

I smile and close my eyes when I feel her snake her arms around my waist from behind, pulling me close against her.

"I missed you," she murmurs, resting her head against my back. "I haven't had a moment alone with you since I returned from the Plains."

I set my papers down and turn around to face her. She smiles up at me, and I bring my nose down and affectionately brush the tip against hers.

"I've missed you too," I whisper.

"Conrad is leaving tomorrow, by the way," she says.

"What?" I look down at her with surprise. "So soon?"

"Yes," she nods, her thumb sliding across my cheekbone. "I suppose he doesn't see the point in staying any longer, now that he knows about us."

"Oh."

I never thought I'd say this, but I actually pity the man. If I were to put myself in his shoes...if it were I who was Evelyn's lover all those years ago and I had traveled such a distance only to find her deeply involved with someone else, I would be utterly _devastated_, to say the least.

"I thought you'd be happier at the news," she remarks with a quizzical expression.

I smile down at her and tuck her hair behind her ear.

"While I will not deny the thrill of having you all to myself again, I cannot help but feel sorry for the man," I tell her.

Her smiles spreads wider, and she pulls me into a warm embrace.

"He will meet someone," she says. "One day, he will find someone who will love him just as much as I love you. I'm sure of it."

She looks back up at me and slightly tilts her head back, inviting me in for a kiss. I oblige only too willingly, and she opens her mouth and returns the kiss ravenously, jumping up to sit on the desk. She spreads her legs and wraps them around my hips, pushing me close against her.

"You seem to have fixed whatever Sera did to your desk," she remarks with a seductive smile.

"She slipped something beneath one of the legs," I reply breathlessly, distracted by the way she rubs herself against me.

"I know," she grins. "I was with her when she did it."

I blink and stare at her, my mouth opening in disbelief.

"You—what?" I laugh. "You're _joking_."

"Not at all," she smirks. "She did it while you were away in the Storm Coast a few days before your birthday."

"Maker's breath," I shake my head as I continue to laugh. "You ladies are _impossible_."

She cuts my laughter short, instead causing a strangled gasp to sound from my lips when she slides her hand down between my legs.

"How about you take me back to our first night together and remind me just how _sturdy_ this desk can be?" she purrs, her velvety voice dripping heavily with seduction.

I groan when she slips her hand into my briefs and wraps her fingers around me.

"You talk as though I have a choice," I manage to respond before pushing her onto her back and crawling over her.

It is our first night together all over again, except _this_ time, my confidence is tenfold what it was then.

And _this _time, I am _far_ too preoccupied to even bother sweeping the desk clear.

* * *

><p><strong>Note<strong>: This isn't the last we see of Conrad, by the way. There's something about jealous Cullen that just does it for me!


	25. A Soothing Touch

"Tell me one thing, Commander; are you _ever_ going to have that damned roof of yours fixed? I mean, do you _like_ having it rain and snow on you as you sleep?"

I look up from perusing the day's schedule and grin widely at Evelyn, who is perched on the edge of my desk and brushing her hair.

"Seeing as I haven't exactly been spending much time in my own bed these past few months, I hardly think it matters," I reply cheekily.

She rolls her eyes and sets her brush down.

"I'm _serious_, Cullen," she says. "You spend your nights here when I'm away, do you not? What if you were to catch cold, or worse, a _fever_? We _are_ in the middle of the mountains, in case you've forgotten. I nearly froze to death last night if you weren't there to keep me warm. Maker knows how you manage on your own."

I set my schedule down and reach over to gently pull her off the desk and onto my lap.

"Would you like me to keep you warm even _now_, my lady? I'd only be too happy to oblige," I growl teasingly into her ear. She laughs as I softly kiss the corner of her jaw, my stubble lightly scratching against her smooth skin.

"You are _impossible_, you know that?" she sighs and closes her eyes as I continue to move my lips down to her neck.

"_Am_ I, now?" I grin against her skin, closing my eyes as I press my nose against her neck and inhale deeply. She sighs again, and I feel her slightly go limp in my arms.

A knock emanates from outside my office door, and I growl in response, tightening my arms around Evelyn when I feel her start and sit up.

"What is it?" I call out grumpily.

"I have a message from Knight-Commander Conrad, Ser," a soldier calls out.

My eyes glance up at Evelyn, who looks down at me and shrugs her shoulders.

"Just a moment, Cullen," she says as she slides away from me and walks towards the door.

"Inquisitor!" the soldier salutes when he sees her standing before him. "Knight-Commander Conrad has asked to see you before he returns to the White Spire, Your Worship."

"Where is he?" she asks.

"In the main hall, Your Worship. He was having his breakfast when he spoke to me."

"All right," she nods. "I will be there shortly."

She closes the door and turns back to me with an apologetic smile.

"I'd better go see him before he leaves," she says.

I try my utmost best to control my seething emotions and keep my face and voice as calm as possible.

"Of course," I nod at her, rising up from my seat and walking around the desk towards her. I snake my fingers through her hair and lean down for a tender kiss.

"Why don't you come with me?" she asks after parting her lips from mine.

"You...wouldn't prefer saying your goodbyes on your own?" I slightly raise my brow.

"I'd prefer having _you_ by my side," she responds. "As a reminder, if nothing else."

"A reminder?" I blink. "Why? Has he tried anything?"

_If he so much as laid a **finger** on her, Maker help me-_

"No, of course not," she chides. "Do you honestly think I would have kept quite about it if he did? No, it's just that... the way he talks and looks at me... it's clear he's hoping to rekindle what we had. Even though that fire has been long extinguished. And that bothers me."

I feel my jaw clench, and my fists would have followed suit were my hands not delicately cradling Evelyn's face.

"So will you come?" she asks hopefully.

My features soften as I look down at her.

"Of course," I smile and kiss her softly.

"All right," she pulls away from me and exhales loudly. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

Arm in arm, we cross the battlements and the deserted rotunda and step into the main hall, which is still bustling with chattering Inquisition members and nobles over breakfast. I scan the hall for a sign of the Knight-Commander, but Evelyn spots him first, steering me towards where he stood talking to Cassandra in the spot usually occupied by Varric.

"Ah, Evelyn," he turns away from the Seeker and smiles as we approach him, his blue eyes regarding Evelyn as though she is the only soul in the room. I know that look all too well—it is precisely the way I feel whenever she is within my vicinity.

"Conrad," she smiles, keeping her arm wrapped firmly around mine. That does not deter the man from taking her free hand and bringing it up to his lips, his gaze fixed on her face as he kisses it.

I instantly feel my blood boil, and the only thing that deters me from reacting adversely is the displeased expression I see on Evelyn's features.

"Forgive me, Commander, but may I speak to the Inquisitor in private?" he straightens up and smiles pretentiously at me. I notice Cassandra crossing her arms across her chest and regarding the Templar with suspicion.

I glance down at Evelyn, who has looked up at me as she awaits my response.

"We shall remain here in the hall," he continues when I do not respond. "Just right there by the entrance."

"Certainly," I nod firmly and _very_ reluctantly slide my arm away from Evelyn's. I meet her gaze, trying to gauge her thoughts on this unpleasant request, and I give her a small nod when she smiles reassuringly at me before following Conrad to the main hall's entrance.

"I am not quite sure what to make of him," Cassandra says, her eyes following the Knight-Commander like a hawk.

I keep my eyes trained on them as well, watching their every move as they converse. It is clear from Evelyn's body language—the crossed arms and deliberate placement of herself several feet away from him- that she is not too happy with Conrad's request for privacy, but the daft idiot does not seem to grasp the message. Either that, or he is being wilfully ignorant of her discomfort, a notion that infuriates me even _more_.

"What's going on here?" I hear Dorian call out cheerfully from behind us. He places a hand on my shoulder as he joins us. "Oh, the Inquisitor's _other_ Templar. Well, _this_ should be interesting."

My scowl deepens, and I nearly let out a disgusted snarl when I notice the bastard slowly edging closer to her.

"I see our dear Inquisitor is in high demand," Dorian comments with amusement as he watches the pair of them. "I dare say I would have been in direct competition with _you_, Commander, were it not for my preferences."

"Thank the Maker for small miracles," I mutter wryly, my eyes narrowing as Conrad inches even _closer_ to her.

_Has he no sense of personal space? _

"I must ask, is it customary for Templars to stand so close to people when conversing?" Dorian asks. "Part of your training? Or is it—_Oh_!"

I stare, my eyes widening in disbelief as I see the scene play out before my eyes in slow motion.

He is kissing her.

He has literally just taken that one final step closer and is _kissing_ her.

Suddenly, all sound is muffled in my ears, almost as though I have been immersed under water. I barely hear Dorian and Cassandra gasping, and I make my way towards the man, forcefully shrugging off my companions' arms as they attempt to hold me back.

I am _blinded_ by rage.

Absolutely _blinded_.

I see Evelyn slapping him hard across the face, and, in an automatic, unthinking fashion, I swing my arm at him, my fist landing hard and squarely against his jaw. So hard and violent is the force of my strike, it sends him falling to the ground, the sound of his armour clanking deafeningly against the stone floor.

"Cullen!" Evelyn gasps in shock. But I barely hear her. I am already advancing towards him again, my fists clenched hard as I prepare to aim another strike at him.

"Commander, stop!" Cassandra commands me sternly, her arms clutching at my right arm and pulling me back. Dorian quickly joins her in subduing me by holding back my left arm.

I struggle against their hold, my eyes glaring venomously at the pathetic bastard as he recovers from my strike, stumbling back up onto his feet with his hand clutching at his jaw.

"Relax, Curly, this isn't worth it!" I hear Varric call out from somewhere behind me.

The blood pounds in my ears, drowning out their voices.

I struggle to yank my right fist free of Cassandra's grasp when I see him lunge towards me, but I stop when I see Cassandra's fist flying at his face in my stead and aiming her own strike at him, throwing him off his feet in the sheer brutality of her strength.

"Cassandra!" Solas throws himself into the commotion and restrains her too. Dorian quickly takes hold of my freed right arm and pins it behind me alongside my left.

"Conrad, _leave_," Evelyn demands furiously. She turns on him menacingly when he merely continues to glare at me, his eyes challenging me to strike at him again. "I said _leave_," she snarls. "_Now_."

He watches me, his breathing as heavy as mine, before he reluctantly slides his gaze away from me to meet Evelyn's glare instead.

"I—I am sorry, my lady," he murmurs before swiftly turning on his heel and descending the staircase.

I feel Dorian loosen his grip on me before completely letting me go and stepping back to give me some space.

"Cullen," Evelyn turns away from the entrance and quickly approaches me, forcing my gaze away from the staircase when she gently tilts my face down towards her. I stare at her, my breathing and heart rate still racing in my chest.

"I—forgive me," I finally mutter, softening under her touch. "I don't know what came over me."

"_I_ do," Dorian says from behind me. "A man just kissed your lover and you reacted in the only way you could. Quite simple, really."

Evelyn shoots him a reproachful look before turning back to me.

"Are you all right?" she asks me softly, her brow knit with concern.

"I am," I nod, my eyes still flickering towards the staircase in case the ass dared show his face again.

I only realise then that the entire main hall has fallen silent, with every eye staring at the scene of the commotion.

"_Woo_, Cullen!" Sera catcalls from her place at the dining table. "General uptight just showed Templar-fuck who's boss! Serves him right, that worthless bag of shit balls."

I rub the back of my neck, feeling incredibly uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"All right, move along, people, nothing to see here," Varric calls out to the halted crowd. Slowly, they start diverting their eyes away and returning to whatever it was they were doing before the spectacle transpired.

"You all right, Curly?" Varric asks gently.

I nod my head impatiently, letting my hand fall away from my neck.

"I'm fine, Varric," I snap.

"Come on," Evelyn slips her hand into mine and gently tugs me in the direction of my office. "Let's get you out of here."

I allow her to lead me away from the hall, my eyes purposely averting the gaze of anyone we pass by on our way.

One of my greatest fears is losing control of myself. _Especially_ in Evelyn's presence.

And I will not lie to myself and pretend that my lyrium withdrawal did not play a significant part in my enraged reaction today.

We step into my office, and Evelyn lets go of my hand to shut the door behind us. I stride over to my desk, placing my palms on the surface and leaning heavily against it.

"Forgive me," I close my eyes and apologise weakly. "I-I should have handled myself better, I know that."

She approaches me and gently moves my left arm away from the desk before slipping into the narrow space between it and my body. Her fingers gently glide through my curls repeatedly, causing me to sigh and rest my forehead against hers as I take in deep, deliberate breaths.

"He deserved it," she responds curtly before her lips break into a smile. "And Cassandra clearly thought so too."

I let out a weak chuckle and bring my palms to her cheeks before I press my lips against hers.

"You're still shaking," she remarks, placing her hands over mine and taking them away from her face. She slips away from me and leads me towards the ladder, my hands still in hers, and she lets go of them only to climb up to my bed chamber. I eagerly follow suit, my eyes shamelessly lingering on her backside as she gracefully moves up the ladder and climbs onto the landing.

As soon as I emerge onto the landing myself, she reaches her hands out towards me and begins to unfasten my armour and clothing. Excitement pumping through me, I slide my hands to her blouse and move to unfasten the delicate buttons, but she brushes my hands away and shakes her head with a smile. I look at her in bewilderment and mild amusement as she continues to undress me until my upper body is left completely nude, but leaves my lower body clothed and untouched.

"Lie down," she nods at the bed. I raise my brow at her before obeying her command and resting my back onto the mattress.

"On your front," she clarifies with a smile as she joins me on the bed. My eyebrows rise yet again, and I flip onto my front, resting the side of my face on my pillow. A wide smile creeps across my lips when I feel her slide over my hips and straddle me from behind.

"Is this an attempt at making me feel better?" I ask in a deep, easy voice.

"Maybe," she responds coyly. I close my eyes and groan when I feel her hands apply some gentle pressure onto my back and slide up to my shoulders, where she starts squeezing gently, instantly loosening the knots of tension built up all along my muscles. "Is it working?"

I groan louder in response, burying my face into my pillow. My breathing hitches when I feel a cool, soothing energy radiating into me, and I tense involuntarily when I realise that the cold is emanating from Evelyn's fingers.

"Is this all right?" she asks me gently, her hands pausing against my skin.

"Yes," I breathe, relaxing into my pillow again.

Of course it is.

It goes without saying that I trust her with my life implicitly.

She resumes her massage, chuckling lightly when I let slip a blasphemous phrase as her fingers loosen a particularly tender knot in my upper back.

All the while, she alternates between cool and warm magic, making me absolutely _melt_ beneath her soothing touch and sink into my mattress.

"_Maker_, where in Thedas did you learn this?" I gasp as her fingers work down to my lower back.

"You tend to pick up a few things from other mages when you're cooped up in a Circle all your life," she responds softly.

"Mmmm," my eyes roll into the back of head as she clenches her hands into fists and presses them heavily against my spine.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" she laughs, the heavenly sound tugging my lips into a weak smile.

"That would be a _vast_ understatement," I manage to mumble, my words almost incoherent in my lax state.

"Is it better than _sex_, even?" she purrs over me.

The bed shakes beneath us as I chuckle at her question.

"Nothing can _ever_ compare to making love to _you_, my love," I murmur lazily.

She giggles at my response as her hands continue to work their magic (quite literally) on my back.

My eyes fly open when I feel her slide away from me, and I rapidly turn around to see where she's gone.

"Relax, I'm still here," she laughs, now sitting on her knees beside me. "Lay your head on my lap."

Relief rushing through me, I hastily move to re-position myself, smiling up at her as my head rests heavily against her thighs.

"This will help with your headaches," she murmurs, placing her fingers against my temples. I close my eyes and sigh audibly as I feel her cool magic radiate into my head, soothing the dull, ever-present pain unlike any manner I had ever experienced before.

"_Maker's breath_..." I breathe as her fingers lightly press against my temples in a slow, circular motion.

"Is the cold too much?" she asks.

I open my eyes ever so slightly and meet her warm gaze.

"It's _perfect_," I reply with a weak smile. "_You're_ perfect."

She beams at me, the expression instantly brightening her beautiful face.

A few moments of bliss pass, the comfortable silence only broken by my low groans of pleasure.

"Evelyn?" I mumble sleepily, feeling myself gradually slip into unconsciousness.

"Yes, Cullen?"

I struggle to open my eyes, but my eyelids feel as heavy as lead.

"I love you."

She does not respond instantly, but even with my eyes closed, I know she is smiling.

"I love you too," I hear her fading voice drift into my ear before I finally give way to slumbering oblivion.


	26. Oblivion

If I thought that the battle in the Shrine of Dumat would have prepared and hardened me against fighting Red Templars, I was wrong.

It is just as harrowing and surreal as the first time.

And yet, I strike them down one by one, forcing my crimson-painted blade through the familiar armour without hesitation.

Without mercy.

Because they deserve none.

"To your left, lieutenant!" I roar at one my officers when I see one of the bastards by her flank. I spin and bash an archer with my shield, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. I circle around, swiftly taking down two more warriors, yanking my blade away and kicking them down to the shallow water running around me.

"It's the Inquisitor!" I hear one of my soldiers yell out. I wheel around, my eyes wide as they search for her. I only see her for a split second before my attention is diverted yet again by another attacker—the last standing one- and I barely avoid his slicing blade when he swings it towards my midsection. I aim a precision strike and sink my blade right into his abdomen, roaring as I plant my boot onto his chest and use him as leverage to pull out my blade.

"Cullen!"

I look up, panting from my efforts, and see Evelyn splashing across the river towards me, her armour and face covered in blood.

"The Temple is right ahead, Inquisitor," I inform her professionally. "The path ahead is clear. We'll stay here and make sure no one gets past us."

"Excellent work, Commander," she nods as Solas, Cassandra, Sera and Morrigan catch up to her. "How are the soldiers faring?"

"A few wounded in my section, but no deaths so far," I reply. "We'll get it done, Inquisitor."

"I know you will, Cullen," she says in a softer voice. I nod at her, and she takes a few steps towards the ruins before stopping when I instinctively reach out for her and curl my fingers around her wrist.

"Be careful," I plead, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

"I will," she smiles and nods once. "And you."

I weakly smile back, my eyes wandering around her face as though desperate to memorise every last detail of her features.

It may be my last chance to do so.

"Go," I urge her softly, releasing her from my grasp.

She stares at me, her eyes raging with conflict, before nodding and swiftly turning away to join the rest of her companions.

I stand still and watch as her figure gradually become smaller with each step she takes away from me. My bones feel hollow, and I take a deep, rattling breath to steady myself when she disappears through the Temple's entrance, forcing myself to compose my thoughts and focus on the immediate danger surrounding us.

"Is everyone all right?" I tear my eyes away from the Temple and call out to my troops. Everyone either puts up their hand or nods if they are close enough. I nod, satisfied with the battle's outcome. Judging from the silence surrounding us and the sheer number of Red Templars we have collectively struck down, there do not appear to be any reinforcements heading our way, but one must never let down their guard, regardless of their apparent successes in the battlefield.

"Do you want a few of us to accompany the Inquisitor, Commander?" my lieutenant asks.

I gaze back at the Temple's entrance, fighting against the overwhelming compulsion to accompany her myself.

"No, lieutenant," I respond. "That would be a deviation from the original plan of attack. We remain here until they are finished."

"Ser," the lieutenant salutes and commences her patrol around the area.

Turning to join the rest of my patrolling forces, my eyes linger at the entrance for a moment longer, a silent, fervent prayer for her safety echoing in my mind.

_Maker watch over you and keep you safe_.

* * *

><p>"What about that blast!"<p>

"I nearly lost my hearing from the sound!"

"_I_ was nearly blinded!"

I stare out the window of one of the carriages transporting me and the rest of my troops back to Skyhold, trying my hardest to ignore my headache as a few of the officers sharing my carriage chatter excitedly about the day's events, which includes Samson's capture. That despicable excuse for a Templar and human being is locked up in a separate and heavily guarded carriage of his own.

What a day indeed.

The Inquisitor—_my_ Evelyn- was victorious once again.

She and the rest of her group are already back in Skyhold, having traveled via that mysterious eluvian elven mirror contraption that Morrigan brought along with her from Orlais. Without informing any of us, might I add.

I _greatly_ dislike the very idea of having that thing housed within Skyhold. But that matter is for Evelyn to decide, not I. And Evelyn trusts Morrigan. She has actually been _through_ the damned thing before. I was entirely _furious_ at Morrigan for taking her through without bothering to inform us exactly _where_ she would be taking her first.

"Leliana confirms that the eluvian is sealed," Josephine says from beside me, her grey eyes pouring over a letter recently delivered by one of our Spy master's messengers.

"How can she be so sure?" I ask skeptically.

"Through Lady Morrigan, of course," she replies.

I frown to myself, still unconvinced.

"And the Inquisitor?" I ask. "Anything about her?"

"Only that she is safe and sound," Josephine smiles warmly up at me. I nod, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corner of my lips. I sit back and relax into the cushioned seat, resting my head against the carriage's interior wall. My eyes wander back out to the snowy mountains beyond, my smile widening considerably when I see Skyhold looming into view in the distance.

By a blessing from the Maker himself, we have both survived the battles.

While the Inquisition's forces did not depart the battlefield entirely unscathed, I am beyond caring, quite frankly.

As long as my Evelyn is safe.

"You love her a great deal," Josephine murmurs. I turn to meet her warm gaze, feeling a little flustered at the unexpected remark.

"She is a remarkable woman," I respond.

"She is," Josephine smiles. "She loves you a great deal, too. I can see it in her eyes whenever you are both in the same room. The little glances you two keep sneaking to each other across the war table have not gone unnoticed by Leliana and I." She grins cheekily as she tells me that little observation.

I instantly feel my face flush and awkwardly rub the back of my neck, my eyes flashing to the two officers sitting across from us. I let out an inaudible sigh of relief when I see that they are all but oblivious to our conversation, immersed as they are in their disbelief over the events in the Wilds.

"You are a lucky man, Commander," Josephine comments softly.

I smile weakly at her and look down at the locket Evelyn gifted me on my birthday, tucked securely behind my chestplate.

"I am," I nod, a sensation of incredible warmth washing through me.

Josephine sits back and closes her eyes, her smile still lingering.

"I cannot wait until we are back in Skyhold," she says. "I still can't believe that Corypheus managed to-"

A sudden, sharp jolt of the carriage prevents Josephine from finishing her sentence, causing a loud, shocked gasp to emanate from her lips instead. I instinctively throw my left arm out as a barrier to prevent her from hurtling off her seat and crashing into my officers, whose hands are already gripping the hilts of their swords, their eyes wide and alert.

"We're under attack!" one of my troops yells out from a distance.

"Captains, to arms!" I command them with a loud, hard voice as I grip the carriage door's handle and spring off my seat. "Guard the Ambassador! Do not leave her side at any cost! Understood?"

"Ser!"

I fling open the door and jump down onto the snow, my boots sinking into its depths. I look around and instantly sprint towards the nearest enemy, bashing him with my shield and plunging my sword into his throat.

"Red Templars!" I hear my soldiers' shouts echo throughout the Frostbacks as they alert the entire force.

"It's an ambush!" another cry emanates from somewhere far behind me. I pull out my sword from the dying Templar by my feet and see a group of four Templar warriors circling around one of my own. I storm off towards them, thrusting my blade through their armour in a mindless fury.

"Are you all right?" I ask the soldier as soon as they are dead in the snow.

"Yes, Commander!" he responds. His eyes drift away from my face to look over my shoulder, and they widen in abject horror, prompting me to spin around and face whatever it is that he noticed.

My eyes meet the red, monstrous eyes of a mutilated Red Templar, and a strangled gasp escapes through my lips when I feel a sharp, searing pain pierce into my abdomen.

"Commander!"

The Templar slides his blade from my body, and I fall onto my knees, my sword falling onto the blanket of snow beneath me as my hands automatically move to the wound. I look down, feeling lightheaded as my eyes take in the scarlet snow, vibrantly coloured by the blood cascading from me.

"The Commander is wounded!" the soldier shouts out from behind me as soon as the Red Templar is struck down. He falls down onto his knees beside me and examines the wound. "Send for help!" he yells out, his loud, panicked voice echoing throughout the mountain path.

"Skyhold is nearby—send for a healer!" someone else shouts out.

"Fetch the Inquisitor!"

I vaguely feel a pair of hands plant themselves firmly under my arms and pull me away from the battle. My vision is blurred, clouded by darkness on the edges, and the shouts and cries around me are all muffled in my ears until all I can hear is my shallow breathing and the beat of my own heart, still pumping fast from the adrenaline surging through me.

"Commander, can you hear me?" a female voice penetrates the hazy cloud. "Maker, he's slipping away! Get more bandages! The wound is too deep!"

"Set him down on the stretcher," another voice commands.

My eyelids drift shut, but they fly open when I hear someone fall heavily onto the snow beside me.

"Cullen? Cullen, can you hear me? Cullen, it is Josephine! Please, tell me you can hear me!"

Hysterical sobs sound from above, and I try to raise my left hand to calm her, but I can barely twitch my fingers.

"Someone get a healer!" Josephine shrieks. I feel someone apply pressure onto my wound, and I gasp at the searing pain that surges through my abdomen, a wave of nausea running through me. I fight to keep my eyes open, using every ounce of my willpower to focus on the steely grey sky above me.

But I can't.

With each passing second, the pain gradually numbs into a dull throb, and with it, my consciousness slips away, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"Cullen," Josephine's pleading voice blares into my ear. "_Look_ at me, Cullen. _Stay_ with me."

She strokes my hair, damp with sweat and snow. I try to swallow, but my throat is too dry. I vaguely notice her clutching my left hand tight, her thumb stroking the back of it repeatedly.

"Commander!"

_Cassandra_.

She made it back to Skyhold through the eluvian.

With Evelyn.

_That means..._

"Get out of my way!"

Someone else heavily falls onto their knees beside me.

"Cullen," Cassandra's weak voice drifts into my ears, and I force my eyelids open. I struggle to focus my increasingly swimming vision on the Seeker's anguished face.

"Ev..." I try to enunciate her name, but I can't speak.

"She is coming," Cassandra responds quickly. I try to nod, but my head merely remains still against the melting snow, and my eyelids start to droop again.

"Make way! The Inquisitor is here!"

I hear movement around me before I feel her familiar fingers curl firmly around my limp hand.

I know it is her without opening my eyes or hearing her speak.

"Cullen," she whispers. Her hand is shaking around mine.

My eyelids flutter open at her voice, and my hand clutches hers tightly, as though it is my life line.

My vision is blurred, but I can see the tortured expression on her beautiful face.

I try to swallow again before I open my mouth to say her name, but no sound emanates from my throat apart from a weak groan.

"Don't speak," she brushes away the damp curls plastered onto my sweat-speckled forehead. She turns her head and angrily shouts over her shoulder. "Where are the rest of the mages?"

"We're here, Inquisitor!" I hear Solas call out.

"Maker's breath," Dorian's voice, filled with shock, whispers from somewhere to my right.

"We need to have the bandages removed, Inquisitor," Vivienne's voice says urgently.

I instantly feel fingers working around the bandages until they are loosened. I wince and let out a pained grunt when the sticky, blood-drenched cloth is gently pulled away from my open wound.

"I'm sorry," Evelyn's whispers repeatedly over my head and kisses my damp, clammy forehead. "This will all be over soon, my love, I promise. You _will_ get through this."

She gently attempts to slide her hand away from mine, but my grasp around her tightens, desperate to hold on to her.

"I need to heal you," she insists, but she did not need to; my hand gradually loosens of its own accord as darkness envelopes me again, dragging me down to unconsciousness.

"Cullen? Cullen, can you hear me?" Frantic panic grips at Evelyn's fading voice.

"We must start the healing process immediately, Inquisitor!" Solas urges.

A cool, soothing energy soon emanates into my body through the wound, several times more potent and calming than the magic Evelyn used to loosen my muscles and soothe my headache.

"Stay in sync, Dorian," Solas hisses, his voice strained in effort.

My eyes roll into the back of my head as their magic continues to seep through the wound, numbing my senses even further.

"He's slipping away!" Evelyn exclaims fearfully. "Cullen, _stay_ with me! Don't you _dare_ leave me!"

"You _must_ remain focused, Inquisitor," Solas snaps at her. "Break your focus, and the spell breaks with it!"

Someone else speaks, but I cannot discern who it is.

Where everything was blurred and muffled a few moments before, all is now silent and black, save for the dull, slow beat of my heart.

I am drifting away.

And I can no longer fight it.


	27. Chocolate

i had the most _incredible_ chocolate-filled hot bun for breakfast this morning, and uhh...well... this sort of happened. enjoy! 3

* * *

><p>Water.<p>

I _need_ water.

I try to move, but my limbs are too heavy.

I try to swallow, but my throat is too dry.

I try to speak, but I have no _voice_.

_Maker_.

_What has happened to me?_

_Where am I?_

_Why can't I move?_

_Why can't I see?_

_Have I gone blind?_

I make another attempt to move, but all I accomplish is a feeble twitching of my fingers.

Beneath my right hand, I feel soft, cool silk, akin to the touch of expensive bed sheets.

My left hand, however, is considerably warmer.

Almost sweaty, in fact.

And my fingers are much more restricted in that hand than my right one.

I try to tug them free of whatever it is that has taken hold of them, and my eyelids immediately fly open when I hear a loud, sharp gasp emanate from my left.

"Cullen!"

Aided by the dim orange light illuminating from the fireplace, I turn my head and see Evelyn staring at me, eyes wide and mouth open, half cast in shadow and seated by the side of the bed I am lying on, both her hands grasping my left one.

"Oh, _Cullen_!"

She buries her head into the edge of the bed, her body rocking considerably as she breaks into hysterical sobs that are muffled by the thick blanket draped over my naked body.

Terrified by her reaction, I try to free my left hand from her grasp to comfort her, but I am far too weak.

"Ev-Evelyn," I summon all of my energy and manage to whisper in an incredibly hoarse voice.

Her sobs only become louder and more hysterical when I speak, but she soon lifts her head away from the mattress, her beautiful almond eyes puffed and bloodshot.

"You're _awake_," she whispers, her words punctured by the sharp, shallow breaths that so often accompany a sobbing person's speech. "Maker, you're..."

She breaks into sobs again, bringing my hand up to her lips and kissing it repeatedly.

"I thought I lost you," she cries, her shoulders heaving.

Agonised by the sight of her crying, I attempt to move and reach my right hand across my body and over to her, but a sharp pain in my lower abdomen stabs at me, causing me to let out a strangled, pained grunt as I immediately fall back onto the pillows stacked behind me.

"Don't move!" she says in alarm, reaching out her hand and gently placing it on my left thigh. "The bleeding has only recently been stemmed."

I blink at her in confusion.

_The bleeding?_

The confusion does not last for long, however, as the memories gradually come flooding back to me, filling my mind's eye with flashing images of scarlet snow and crimson-stained gloves...

Sounds of dying men and women, crying out in pain as swords flashed under the steely winter sky...

The feel of Evelyn's lips frantically kissing my clammy forehead as she whispered that it was going to be all right...

Evelyn gets up from the chair she set by the side of the bed and carefully sits on the edge of the mattress, her crying greatly subdued.

"You... you don't remember?" she asks me softly, her hand gently brushing back my curls from my forehead.

I look at her and swallow, trying to find my voice again.

"I-I do," I reply hoarsely.

Her chin trembles as her lips breaks into a smile, her eyes swimming with tears again.

Tears which I now understand to be tears of _joy_.

She leans down and kisses me lightly on my forehead, and I close my eyes, inhaling deeply against her neck.

"Maker, I must be dreaming," she whispers, bringing her forehead down against mine.

Carefully, and with an incredibly slow pace, I lift my right hand up and cup the side of her face. I slide my thumb across her tear-stained cheek to wipe away at the droplets. She closes her eyes under my touch and brings her lips to mine, kissing me ever so softly and hesitantly, as though the slightest application of pressure would cause me pain. I groan lightly at the intoxicating feel and taste of her lips against mine, and she quickly pulls away, her eyes wide and her brow knit in concern.

"What's the matter?" she asks me worriedly. "Are you in pain?"

"No," I smile weakly. It is a lie, but a minor one—the pain I am in is not unendurable.

"Then what's wrong?"

I secure a strand of hair behind her ear and gently pull her down for another kiss.

"Nothing," I murmur against her lips. "I was only enjoying the kiss."

She smiles, her nose still red from the crying.

"Are you comfortable?" she asks. "Do you need anything?"

"I am," I reply. "Although, I could do with some water."

"Of course!"

She sits up, reaches over to the bedside table and pours some water from a jug and into a glass. She carefully brings it to my lips and helps me drink, smiling lovingly down at me as she does so.

"Enough?" she asks when I pull my lips away. I nod as I gulp down the remaining cold water in my mouth, relief flooding me as the cool liquid runs down my severely dry throat, soothing it immeasurably.

"Thank you," I tell her gratefully, my voice a little stronger now.

She smiles and sets the glass back down on the bedside table.

"Are you hungry?" she asks.

"Not really, no."

"Well, let me know when you are. I've had the baker make you those chocolate-filled hot buns you love so much."

I smile warmly at her, paying absolutely no heed to the almost fatal wound that is pulsing dully in my lower right abdomen.

"Lie down next to me," I request gently.

Her smile disappears, and it is replaced by a tense purse of her lips.

"I can't risk hurting you, Cullen," she replies apologetically. "The wound is closer to your right side. It would be very easy for me to accidentally brush against it."

I see her hand close to my left hip, and I take it in mine, squeezing it gently.

"I want you near me," I whisper imploringly. "_Please_, Evelyn."

The guilt on her face becomes more pronounced, and she brings our intertwined hands up to her lips and presses them against the back of my hand.

"I _am_ near you, my love," she murmurs reassuringly. "As I have been these past three days. I haven't left your side _once_."

"_Three_ days?" I repeat in shock. "Have I really been out that long?"

"Yes," she nods sadly. "The wound was very deep, Cullen. It took Solas, Vivienne Dorian and I several attempts to completely seal it and stem the blood flow." She closes her eyes as a shudder visibly runs through her. "I was _terrified_. You lost so much blood, I was _certain_ I was going to lose you..."

Her voice breaks before it trails away, and I can see that her chin has started to tremble again. She slowly moves her head from side to side, brushing her lips against my hand.

"But here you are," she finishes with a small smile. "Alive."

I stare at her, too overcome with emotion to react.

"Come here," I whisper after a moment. She readily obliges and leans in closer, allowing me to snake my fingers through her hair and pull her down to kiss her.

She kisses me softly, tentatively, clearly terrified of accidentally hurting me.

But soft and tentative is not enough for me.

I press my hand against the back of her head, forcing her lips to press harder against mine. I open my mouth and suck in her breath, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as our tongues meet in a caress, eliciting a soft sigh from her lips and a pleasured groan from mine. Our breathing quickly turns into panting, and my heart hammers against my ribs, sending my blood pumping down to my groin.

Suddenly, Evelyn pulls her head back, staring at me in the dim firelight.

"Cullen, you're _wounded_," she says sternly. "I'm supposed to be caring for you as you rest, not exciting you and sending your heart rate through the roof."

She stands up and walks away towards the staircase leading down to her bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" I ask in panic, nearly sitting up in my frantic state.

"I'm going to fetch some of those chocolate hot buns for you," she replies over her shoulder. "You look pale. You need to eat something."

I open my mouth to protest, but close it again when I can think of nothing to say as a retort.

I hear the door shut behind her and relax back onto the pillows. Curious about the state of my injury, I gingerly lift the blanket up and look down at my abdomen.

The entire area is heavily wrapped with bandages. Though I cannot tell for certain in the dimly lit room, the bandages appear to be clean, free of bloodstains.

A promising sign, to be sure. Evelyn is being overly fretful.

I glance around the room, my eyes falling onto the settee by the banister, stacked with two pillows borrowed from Evelyn's bed and a neatly folded woolen blanket.

_That_ is where she has been sleeping these past three days.

And when she was not sleeping, she sat by my side, holding my hand, and, I would imagine also falling asleep in her seat from time to time.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes as I picture her by my side.

I know now more than ever that she truly does love me as much as I love her.

And Maker, is it a _beautiful_ realisation to happen upon.

I open my eyes when I hear her bedroom door creak open and shut again, and a smile spreads across my lips when she ascends into view midway through the staircase, holding a tray of the chocolate-filled hot buns she'd been so adamant to feed me.

"Here you are," she smiles, setting the tray on the bedside table. "Freshly made. Just as you like them."

I watch, enthralled as I am by her, as she places a bun on a small plate. I reach my hand out to take it, but she pulls the plate closer to her chest.

"I've been bathing you and wetting your lips with ice these past three days," she says. "Do you really think I am about to let you eat on your own?"

I blink at her, my stomach jolting nervously.

"You... you bathed me?" I ask with my brow raised high.

"Well, if you call wetting a cloth and wiping your body down 'bathing', then yes."

"Oh. Well... I...thank you," I reply awkwardly, feeling more than slightly embarrassed as I picture her hand cleaning every inch of my naked body.

"My pleasure," she murmurs, extending a hot bun to my lips. My eyes lingering on hers, I open my mouth and take a bite, letting out a low moan of approval as the hot, melted Orlesian chocolate melts against my tongue.

"_Maker_," I exclaim, my speech muffled from the thick chocolate. "I'd forgotten how _delicious_ these are."

Evelyn merely grins in response as she waits for me to swallow the first bite before encouraging me to take another one.

"You haven't eaten since before the incident," she remarks quietly. "My darling Commander must be _famished_."

I grin before taking another bite and chewing it at quite the rapid rate, my appetite suddenly on fire. Evelyn chuckles, regarding me with amused endearment.

"You've got chocolate all over yourself," she laughs. My face instantly turning warm, I raise my hand to my lips to wipe the chocolate away, but freeze midway when she curls her fingers around my wrist and pulls down my hand, leaning in close to me.

She pauses less than an inch away from my face, placing her fingers beneath my chin and her thumb against it to slightly tilt my face up. A thrill shoots through me when I feel her kissing me on the corners of my lips, softly licking away the chocolate with her tongue.

"You've got it on your chest too," she purrs, her heavily lidded eyes briefly flashing to mine before leaning down and slowly kissing and licking away the droplet of chocolate from my skin.

My breathing hitches, and I instantly feel the excitement building up mercilessly between my legs as I watch her with my mouth slightly open. She looks back up at me and grins, licking her lips and swallowing the remnants of the melted chocolate.

_Andraste preserve me_.

My excitement is literally poking out from under the thick blanket, an agonisingly embarrassing sight that does not go unnoticed by Evelyn.

"Oh, Cullen, I'm so sorry!" she laughs guiltily. "I'm not supposed to be making you feel this way!"

"Is it really that bad?" I ask. "The bandages are free of blood stains. What harm could being _carefully_ intimate together possibly do?"

"A _lot_ of harm, actually," she responds, her manner suddenly grave. "Your heart rate must remain as steady as possible, lest we risk the wound bleeding again."

I sigh and rest heavily against the stack of pillows behind me, regarding her with the utmost longing.

"It's been so long since I've..." my words are cut short, the blood rushing to warm my face.

"Since you've what?" she asks with a quizzical raise of an eyebrow.

I look at her, my eyes lingering on her soft, full lips.

"Since I have made love to you," I finish softly, forcing the shame I feel at the admission away from my thoughts.

She looks at me silently for a moment before setting the empty plate back on the bedside table and taking my left hand in hers.

"You were on the brink of death and all you can think of is the length of time that has elapsed since we were last intimate?" she smirks.

"It's not _all_ I think of!" I exclaim defensively, the warmth in my face intensifying. She laughs heartily and kisses my hand before shifting from her chair and onto the edge of the bed.

"You are the most magnificent man I have ever had the fortune to meet, Cullen Rutherford," she smiles sweetly, her fingers slowly gliding through my curls. "Well, meet _and_ bed."

I laugh nervously as she glides her hand over my bare chest.

"I still wake up some days convinced that this is all a dream," I murmur, resting my palm on the length of her face. She closes her eyes and leans into my hand, turning her head slightly to kiss it.

"What, the breach in the sky and the mad darkspawn threatening to take over the world, or our relationship?" she asks humorously.

"Both," I laugh.

She sighs and leans down to lightly rest her head against my chest, her legs still in a seated position by the edge of the bed. I stroke her hair absentmindedly, the room thrown into a blissful and most comfortable silence for a while.

"Have you been sleeping on that settee this entire time?" I ask her.

"Mmm-hmm," she nods.

"I suppose my injury prevents us from sharing a bed as well?" I ask sardonically.

"I can't risk accidentally brushing against your wound, Cullen," she repeats for what must be the fourth or fifth time this evening.

I nod and continue to stroke her hair.

"Will I be bed-ridden for much longer?"

"A few more days at most," she replies.

Another stretch of silence ensues, the only sound being the merry crackling of the flames in the hearth.

"Evelyn?"

"Yes, my darling?"

I pause for a brief moment before responding.

"Thank you."

She raises her head from my chest and looks up at me, her eyes surveying me intently.

"For what? For nursing the man I love back to health after nearly losing him forever?" She smiles and shakes her head before leaning in and tenderly kissing my lips. "Your life is as much mine as it is yours, Cullen," she says, cupping my face in her hands.

I stare at her, deeply struck by the sincerity and fervor in her words.

"You _are_ my life," I whisper, my voice raw with emotion.

I kiss her, deeply and fervently, and pull her closer against me.

"Your heart rate-" she protests weakly, her lips still touching mine, but I silence her by claiming her mouth again and slipping my tongue into it.

She moans into my mouth, and I echo her, the taste of her dizzying my already hazy mind. I slide my hands away from her hair and down to her breasts, squeezing them in each palm. She moans again, her breath hitching as my fingers move to unfasten the buttons on her blouse-

"_Stop_," she moves her lips away and pulls back, her panting matching my own.

"What's wrong?" I ask with concern.

She sighs and shifts away from me, her lips swollen and her hair disheveled.

"Do you truly believe my willpower and self-control to be so unwavering?" she asks incredulously. "I _tremble_ under your touch, Cullen. There is only so much I can resist before giving in to you. And I _can't _right now. _Please_. Do not tempt me any further."

I stare at her, and for the second time tonight, I am struck speechless by her words.

_Do I really have that much of an affect on her?_

"Forgive me," I murmur, sliding my hand away from her to give her space. "You already warned me before. I... I shouldn't have-"

"Shhh," she caresses my face and glides her fingers down to my chin, affectionately pressing her thumb against my cleft. "You can make it up to me later. When you're not at risk of dying from a mere kiss," she adds with a smirk.

I smile back and smooth her hair with my fingers.

"Any particular sort of apology in mind?" I ask suggestively.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," she purrs. The clock in the main hall starts chiming, causing the two of us to glance over at the clock Evelyn has on her mantelpiece.

"It's getting late," she says. "You should rest more, Cullen."

"Am I at least permitted a goodnight kiss?" I ask with a crooked grin.

She smiles, her flushed cheeks deepening in colour.

"Of course," she murmurs and leans in for a brief yet passionate kiss. She rests her forehead against mine and brushes the tip of my nose with hers.

"Goodnight, my love," I whisper.

"Goodnight," she responds softly. She kisses me once again before getting up and walking towards her closet.

I sigh in contentment and rest heavily into the pillows, a small smile lingering on my lips. I catch a glimpse of the lucky charm still around her neck as she passes by the fireplace.

Luck.

Is that what this all is?

I never truly believed in it before joining the Inquisition. A fantasy created to foster hope in the hearts of people, I once thought.

And maybe it _is_ nothing more than a fantasy.

But, as I watch Evelyn slip into her nightgown and smile at me before blowing out the candles, and as my mind revisits all the life-threatening moments that could have easily claimed my life, I cannot help but believe in it.

At least for tonight.


	28. A Prayer

**NSFW!**

* * *

><p>"Cullen! Keep <em>still<em>!"

"I am!," I laugh as Evelyn's fingers gently unwrap the thick bandages from around my waist.

Have I mentioned that I absolutely _adore_ the way she snaps at me when she is irritated? I find it most endearing.

She sighs audibly and gets up from her knees, placing her hands on her hips and regarding me with a knowing look.

"I know you keep turning your head to look at your reflection in the mirror," she tells me accusingly. "You can stare at the scar all you like as soon as the damned bandages are off, agreed?"

I chuckle lightly and lean down to kiss the tip of her nose.

"Agreed," I grin.

She gets back down onto her knees (_Maker, but that __**does**__ sound rather...ahem, never mind_) and re-commences her quest to untie the bandages as carefully and gently as possible from around me.

"All right, I'm right at the wound, so let me know immediately if you feel any pain, all right?"

"All right," I nod.

I look down as she peels away the bandage with a drawn-out pace, her brow furrowed in concentration and her teeth biting down on her lower lip.

"Nothing?" she looks up at me and asks, the end of the bandage held between her fingers.

"Nothing," I smile.

"Excellent," she glances back down at the wound—now a fleshy pink scar- and examines it silently. "It's healed very nicely," she murmurs, prodding it lightly with her finger. "How does it feel?"

"A bit sore," I reply. "Quite like a sore muscle."

"So the discomfort originates on the inside..." she murmurs thoughtfully to herself. "Does the scar itself hurt at all when I touch it?"

"Not at all."

She nods, her gaze lingering on the scar for a moment longer before standing up straight, gathering the bandage into a wad in her hands.

"Thank the Maker we were there to heal you in time," she says gravely. "If the attack took place any further away from Skyhold..."

I cradle the side of her face and stroke her cheekbone with my thumb.

"You need more mage healers amongst your ranks, Cullen," she continues in a serious tone. "At least two per section. We cannot risk this happening again to any of the Inquisition's members."

"Of course," I nod professionally. "I will see to it immediately."

She smiles up at me and wraps her arms around my neck.

"You're so sexy when you have your serious Commander hat on," she comments in a purr.

I smile back, eliciting a deep moan of approval when she kisses me.

"I gather I am no longer restricted by my injury to spend some..._quality_ time with you?" I grin against her slips, running my fingers through her hair.

She lets out a light, melodious chuckle that never fails to brighten my day, no matter how despondent my mood.

"I think an entire week of abstinence is enough punishment for the two of us, don't you agree?" she grins back, gently pressing her forehead against mine.

"Oh, I _agree_," I growl, my fingers already halfway down her blouse, flitting around her buttons to unfasten them. "_Wholeheartedly_."

She laughs as she shrugs off her blouse and lets it fall to the ground before hastily pulling down my briefs (for that is the only article of clothing on me) while I impatiently pull off her own undergarments, which quickly join the rest of her clothing on the carpeted floor of her quarters.

My blood pounding in my profound excitement, I kick off my briefs from around my ankles and pull her mouth back to mine. Without breaking the kiss, I slide my hands down to her bottom and hitch her up, prompting her to wrap her legs around my waist for support. I walk us to the bed and lie down on my back, my hands leaving her waist and moving to cup her breasts. I slide my mouth away from hers and down her neck, hungrily kissing and tasting her skin until I arrive at her plump breasts. I squeeze them close together and cover her nipples with my mouth, a restrained whimper slipping through her lips when I roll my tongue around and over them.

I slide my hands down to her bottom and force her forward until she is sitting close enough to my mouth for me to pleasure her. Breathing raggedly, she shifts and places most of her weight onto her knees on either side of my head and lowers herself down against my lips.

"_Maker_!" she gasps as I slide my tongue against her, and she plants her hands backwards on the mattress on either side of my chest, leaning back against them and throwing her head back. I grab her hips and press her closer against my mouth, groaning as she gasps and moans loudly over me and moves her hips back and forth, following the rhythm of my tongue's strokes.

I tighten my grip around her hips and steady her when she starts twitching over me.

"Oh _Maker_, Cullen," she whimpers. "Don't stop. _Please_..."

As if I would ever consider doing such a thing.

Seeing her writhe in absolute pleasure over me like this... knowing that _I_ am the cause of her ecstasy...

It is the most incredible feeling I have ever experienced.

"_Oh, Cullen_!" she cries out, her eyes rolling into the back of her head and her mouth forming a sweet 'O' of pleasure as her entire body spasms uncontrollably.

I keep my mouth buried against her, sucking her in as she rides out the waves of her rapture. She slumps herself off me and onto the mattress, panting loudly as she gradually comes down from her high. Grinning, I roll onto my front and crawl over her, and she buries her fingers in my curls and kisses me chaotically as soon as my face is level with hers. I groan into her mouth when I feel her fingers curl around my arousal and move up and down slowly and firmly. I re-position myself over her, placing most of my weight on my forearms against the mattress, and allow her to guide me into her.

My eyes roll into the back of my head, and I let out a long, trembling shudder as I slide into her and feel her incredible warmth envelope me entirely.

"_Maker_..."

It's been so _long _since I have been able to be with her like this...

I have literally been _aching_ for her, and to finally feel her surrounding me so _completely_ again...

"Don't go too fast," she whispers jaggedly, her eyes barely open. "I don't want you hurting yourself."

I bury my face into the crook of her neck, my groaning muffled as I move slowly inside her.

The slow, gentle pace does nothing to take away from the pleasure. In fact, if anything, the prolongation _intensifies_ it.

"Oh, _Maker_," I cry out, gripping at the sheets beneath me. I pull my face away from her neck and look at her eyes, desperate for eye contact before I come. I intertwine my fingers with hers and press her hands down against the mattress on either side of her head, the bed creaking noisily beneath us as I cannot help but increase the pace of my thrusts as the heat and need build up between my legs.

When I realise that I will not be able to last any longer, I slide my right hand down between us and rub her to deepen her pleasure, biting her lower lip when she cries out and clenches around me.

The sound of her coming beneath me is what does it for me. I bury my face in the crook of her neck again, my fingers still rubbing against her as I am engulfed in _hot_, _sweet_ ecstasy—a pleasure so _intense_, it literally causes me to drool.

Evelyn turns her head towards mine and buries her face into my hair, breathing in deep as she kisses me.

"How's your wound?" she asks breathlessly into my ear. I lift my head up and smile lazily at her, my eyelids heavily drooping.

"Would you stop worrying about it?" I chuckle lightly, stroking her matted hair away from her eyes. "I'm absolutely _fine_, Evelyn. Better than fine. _Ecstatic_."

The concerned look on her face tells me she is not convinced.

"Lie down on your back," she instructs me.

I roll my eyes and carefully slide out of her, smirking to myself when I feel her gasp and clench around me as I do so. I then do as she asks and lie down on my back next to her. She sits up and shifts closer to my lower abdomen, her eyes squinting as she scrutinizes the scar.

"Do you believe me now?" I ask with a raise of an eyebrow.

She nods and shifts back up to me to nestle by my side. I wrap my arm around her and kiss the top of her head, closing my eyes as she sighs against me.

"You should care more about your own welfare, Cullen," she chastises me softly. "For my sake, if nothing else. I worry for you. Constantly."

I smile and look down at her, trailing my fingers along her arm.

"For _you_," I murmur, "I'd do _anything_."

* * *

><p>"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall no be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."<p>

"A prayer for you?"

I turn around from where I am kneeling by the altar and see Evelyn standing by the door.

"For those we have lost," I respond and turn back to the altar. "And...those I am afraid to lose."

I think of her, and of the final task that lies ahead. It feels as though a fist clenches at my heart, and I let my head drop, closing my eyes as I try to shake the dreadful feeling away.

She takes a few steps closer, hesitantly.

"You're afraid?" she asks.

"Of course I am!" I exclaim as though it is the most obvious answer in the world. "Corypheus possessed that Grey Warden at Mythal! What more is he capable of? It's only a matter of time before he retaliates."

I exhale loudly and stand up, turning to face her. I take a few steps to close the distance between us, and I rest the palm of my gloved hand against her cheek, my eyes searching her face.

"We _must_ draw strength wherever we can," I continue, admiring the warm, deep brown shade of her eyes. Again, the prospect of losing her crosses my mind, and I slide my hand away from her and close my eyes, the fear that I harbour so carefully within me threatening to spill over.

"When the time comes, you will be thrown into his path again," I tell her, my voice breaking. "Andraste preserve me. I must send you to him."

I feel her hands cup either side of my face, and I open my eyes to see her smiling gently up at me.

"There's nothing to worry about," she says. "I have luck on my side, remember?"

I follow her gaze down to the coin hanging around her neck, and I let out a weak chuckle at the sentiment.

"That's less comforting than I'd hoped," I smile, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

She gazes at me, the smile fading from her lips, and she wraps her arms around me in an embrace. I wrap my arms tightly around her waist and pull her close against me, burying my face in the crook of her neck.

"Whatever happens," I whisper against her, "you _will_ come back."

"Cullen, you don't have to-"

"Allow me this," I implore her, trying my best to keep my voice steady as I feel the moisture sting at my eyes. "To believe _anything_ else... I _can't_."

The battle to hold back my tears was doomed to failure from the start, and they are soon rolling down along the edge of my nose, dropping onto Evelyn's shoulder.

I have never cried in the presence of anyone before.

I even attempted to hide my tears from my family as a child, not out of shame—for there is no shame in human feeling and emotion- but to avoid causing them any concern over whatever it was that was troubling me at the time.

But with Evelyn...I am _vulnerable. _Exceedingly so. I cannot seem to be able to hide my troubles from her, no matter how hard I try.

"It's going to be all right," she whispers soothingly. She loosens her arms from around me and cradles my face in her hands, leaning back slightly to appraise me. She looks at me with a profound melancholy when she sees the tears staining my eyes, and she gently pulls my face closer to hers, covering my face in light, caressing kisses.

I close my eyes and let out a long breath, instantly feeling calmer under her soothing touch.

"I _will_ come back," she promises me fervently, her thumb sliding beneath my eye to wipe away the glistening tear tracks. I swallow and nod once, my hands wandering to caress her face. "How could I not, with a handsome Commander such as yourself waiting for me?"

I chuckle lightly and softly kiss her lips.

"Come on," she takes my hand in hers and takes a step towards the Chantry door, "let's have a stroll in the garden. The weather is lovely today."

I smile and follow her out, sliding my hand away from hers to wrap my arm snugly around her waist instead.

We walk about the garden, passing by Morrigan, who has her son perched on her lap on a bench as they pour over a book together.

"Ah, Inquisitor," she looks up when she sees us. "I see your Commander has made a full recovery. 'Tis a pleasure to see you looking well, Commander," she adds with a soft smile.

"Thank you, Lady Morrigan," I bow my head politely.

"What are you two up to?" Evelyn asks, smiling kindly at the Kieran.

_She would make a lovely mother one day._

"Kieran and I are going through some study," Morrigan responds, looking down fondly at her son.

"Mother says I need to be prepared," the boy adds with a smile.

"Prepared?" Evelyn asks. "Prepared for what?"

"Pay no heed to Kieran, Inquisitor," Morrigan says dismissively. "He is but a young boy with an elaborate imagination."

Evelyn nods and says nothing further on the matter.

"How is the...uh...eluvian?" I ask with an uncomfortable rub of the neck. That thing always makes me feel uncomfortable.

"'Tis fine," Morrigan replies simply. "Why do you ask?"

I glance awkwardly at Evelyn as I try to arrange the right words in my mind.

"I just... don't feel comfortable with it being in Skyhold," I confess. "Corypheus may not be able to travel through it, but what if something else can?"

Morrigan sighs audibly, diverting my attention back to her.

"Let me tell you this, Commander," she wraps her arms around Kieran's waist and holds my gaze steadily, her yellow eyes glinting. "If you close your eyes and wish hard enough, a fleet of griffons will appear under your command."

She says all this with a highly dramatic tone, as though reading a fantastical bedtime story to her son.

I blink at her, uncertain of how to respond.

"See?" Evelyn laughs. "That's... probably not true. But it would be fun!"

"It...well, yes," I say. "But that wasn't my _point_."

"Quite," Morrigan smiles and turns her gaze back to her book.

I sigh as Evelyn steers me away, still chuckling heartily at Morrigan's embellished words.

"I'll stop worrying about it," I tell her. "So long as _someone_ is watching it. Even if that someone is Morrigan."

"I'm sure it will be fine, Cullen," she smiles, leaning against my side. "Now, how about a game of-"

"Inquisitor!"

We both wheel around, staring as a soldier runs urgently towards us.

"I found this by the stables, Your Worship! Ser Blackwall is gone!"

He hands Evelyn a piece of parchment, which she takes instantly and unfolds.

_Inquisitor,_

_You've been a friend and an inspiration. You've given me the wisdom to know right from wrong, and, more importantly, the courage to uphold the former._

_It's been my honour to serve you_.

"When did you find this?" I ask the soldier after reading the note.

"Just now, Commander," he replies.

I look down at Evelyn, my jaw tense.

"We need Leliana to confirm it," I advise her.

Evelyn purses her lips as she folds the letter and tucks it into her trouser's pocket.

"You're right," she nods. "If anyone can find Blackwall, it's her."

* * *

><p>"Val Royeaux?" I glance at Leliana from across the war table as Evelyn and I read the crumpled report she had spread over the map. "So, what? You're saying Blackwall's gone to put a stop to this Lieutenant Mornay's execution?"<p>

"All evidence points to that conclusion, Commander," the Spymaster responds coolly. "For one reason or the other, Blackwall seems to have a vested interest in the matter. He would not have left the Inquisition for anything that was not of the utmost importance to him. He was extremely loyal to our cause and very fond of our people."

I glance over at Evelyn, who is still staring at the report.

"What shall we do, Inquisitor?" I ask her softly.

She blinks and looks up at Leliana and I, her brow furrowed.

"I go to Val Royeaux and find out what all of this is about," she replies.

"A complement of my soldiers and I should accompany you, Inquisitor," I offer immediately. "We cannot tell for certain what we can expect once we're there."

The stoicism in her eyes fades away to be replaced with concern.

"But, your injury, Cullen," she protests.

"You know better than anyone else how well it has healed, Inquisitor," I tell her pointedly, referring to the '_quality_' time we spent earlier together this morning. Leliana, being the skilled bard that she is, quickly picks up on my meaning and smiles into her hand, politely looking away from us.

The colour floods to Evelyn's cheeks, but her expression remains unchanged.

"All right," she finally concedes. "We leave as soon as possible."

"Of course, Inquisitor," I nod. "I will begin making preparations at once."

Once the meeting is over, I head towards the barracks, mentally compiling a list of the most suited soldiers to accompany us on the journey.

Blackwall is a good man.

We cannot let him slip away from us so easily.


End file.
